Kuroshitsuji OneShots
by Cassie Breegan
Summary: As stated in the title, this is a collection of  Kuroshitsuji One-Shots! I'm posting them all here instead of flooding my page with them. Updated randomly, when inspiration strikes!
1. ClaudexAlois Fluff: Stay With Me

First of the Claude x Alois fics! Hope you enjoy!

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He woke with a scream dying on his lips. He was drenched in a cold sweat, shaking uncontrollably.

"A nightmare, Your Highness?"

A candle flickered to life across the room, soon joined by others. The faint light illuminated a pale face, and reflected off the lenses of the glasses perched on the nose.

"Claude..."

The butler's golden eyes caught the light eerily as he crossed the room to open the curtains. Moonlight, cold and flat, joined the warm yellow light of the candles, illuminating him as moved back across the room.

"It's been some time since you've had such a dream," The demon remarks, taking a cup from the tea tray Alois hadn't noticed. He offers it to the boy.

"What is it...?"

"Warm milk, with a dash of brandy," He explains. "To soothe nerves and aid in returning to sleep."

The boys takes the cup with trembling hands, sipping from it.

"I hate that dream," He mutters darkly, one hand clenching in his hair as he fought to suppress a shudder, eyes shut tight against the tears that threatened to fall. He refused to allow them, knowing if they started, they wouldn't stop.

"Finish your milk," The butler says quietly. "You'll feel better in the morning."

Alois sighs and sips from the cup again, biting his lip. The shudder finally won, and the break as it ran through him pulled forth the sobs he'd been trying to fight down.

Claude takes the cup as he begins to shake more violently, wracked with sobs at the memories of his childhood.

"Why...?" He moans, clutching at the nightgown he wore, arms wrapped tight around his own chest. "Why _everyone_...?"

Claude stepped closer, holding a candelabrum to offer more light; the boy shrieked again, scrambling away from the dancing flames of the candles.

"_Get away-!_"

He honestly hadn't meant to torture the boy; withdrawing, he places the candle holder on the nearby vanity.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness," He says softly. "I hadn't realized."

Alois' sobs were slowly fading; he wordlessly curls up amid the numerous pillows on the bed and wraps his arms around his legs. Claude leans over to tuck the blankets around him again as the boy buries his face in his knees, then turns to leave.

"Don't go-!"

Alois uncurls suddenly, reaching out and catching one of the tails on Claude's coat. His voice was thin and desperate, little more than a gasp.

"You promised..." He moans pitifully. "You promised you wouldn't leave me-!"

The butler turns again, gently freeing his coat from Alois' tightly clenched hand.

"If you don't wish me to leave, I won't," He says, sitting on the edge of the bed. "...As I've said...I will follow my master to the end."

Alois gazes at him with wide eyes for a moment, the ghost of a grateful smile playing across his lips. Moving closer, he rests his head on the demon's leg.

"Stay with me, Claude..." He says quietly. "Stay here until I fall asleep..."

He lays a gentle hand on the head of pale blonde hair.

"...Yes, Your Highness."

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Yay for fluff! Chapter two is not fluffy at all! In fact, chapter two is rated M!

Anyway. Week two will be Grell x Claude. Head on over to my profile to vote for week three!

(If you voted for weeks 1-2, I've taken down and re-posted the poll, and will do this every week, so you can vote again!)


	2. ClaudexAlois: Entangled

Hi! (Finally) Here's the second Alois x Claude fic! Sorry it took so long.

WARNING. Dominance, slight bondage, slight sadomasochism. RATED M. Hope you enjoy it. It's darker and more twisted than anything I've written before.

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Alois stretched luxuriously, sighing deeply as his butler slipped silently into the room. He always moved with almost predatory grace; it still gave the fair-haired man a thrill to think that such a powerful being was under his control.

"Are you ready to retire for the night?"

So formal, always so formal. He tilted his head easily to one side, a grin spreading across his lips.

"I suppose."

The stoic deadpan on the butler's face didn't change at all as he retrieved his master's nightclothes. He had perched on the edge of the bed by then, holding out one foot as he waited to be undressed.

He went about the task methodically, as always; tonight, however, the blonde was acting like he had as a child, making the butler's job difficult. He considered it playful; the demon found it nothing short of infuriating.

"Always so patient, Claude..."

The giggle of his childhood had been replaced with a darker, deeper chuckle; the boy's frame had filled out since they'd first made their contract. Eighteen now, he had the same slender build, but his body was toned, the softness of youth replaced by lean muscle. His features as well had grown more defined, losing the round boyishness. His eyes, however, still had the same cruel glint set in them, turning the once-warm sky blue to an icier shade.

The demon elected to bite his tongue instead of responding to the teasing comment, merely pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"You don't actually need those, do you?" Alois scoffed, removing them and carelessly tossing them aside. "Let me see your eyes..."

No, he didn't need the glasses at all; he ignored the loss completely, beginning to undo the buttons on the young man's shirt.

"Are you _always_ so distant...?" Alois lifted a delicate, pale hand, running it through the dark locks of Claude's hair. "You could at least _pretend_ you don't mind being contracted to me..."

The slim fingers slipped easily through the messy tresses, nails brushing his scalp in an appealing way...they traced the contour of the nape of his neck, around to his collarbone, and fell away as the blonde leaned back, his shirt only half-unbuttoned.

"...Are you going to continue?"

The grin had spread across his face again. After a brief moment, Claude began to undo the rest of the buttons, his face blank as ever...until the hand that had passed through his hair closed around his wrist.

"Your highness-"

The blue eyes met the gold, half-lidded as he brought the gloved hand to his mouth and bit gently on the fabric, tugging it off.

"You shouldn't act so stoic," he says softly, tracing the seal on the back of Claude's hand with a finger.

"...Yes, your highness."

"Don't say that," He purrs, carefully inspecting the gleaming black fingernails. "Call me by my name...at least for now."

"Of course...Alois Trancy..."

He rolls his eyes, sighing.

"My _first_ name. And only that."

"...As you wish...Alois."

The false earl's eyes narrowed, and his grin widened, growing mischievous. The demon's eyebrow rose at the change in the expression, but before he could comment, the marked tongue flicked out and passed over the tip of his middle finger. The blue eyes met his again, almost daring him to protest as the tongue swept over his index finger, and he drew the two slim digits into his mouth. After a moment, the blue eyes slipped closed, and he began to let out little moans and mewls, quiet, but caught by the demon's senses.

He fought to keep his composure, trying not to react as the talented muscle swept over and around his fingers-no doubt trying to make him wonder what it would feel like on something else.

The younger pulled away-stopping to suck on the tip of his fingers for a moment-and met the demon's gaze again, head tilted, as always, easily to one side. The blue eyes remained half-lidded, darkened with a diabolic lust.

"You haven't finished undressing me, Claude..."

"...Forgive me...it's a difficult task with one hand."

"Forgive me...?"

"Forgive me...Alois."

He smiled, leaning toward the other, shedding the unbuttoned shirt and wrapping his arms around his butler's neck.

"Very good...continue..."

Seemingly unperturbed by the young man's proximity, Claude merely set about finishing his task, knowing it would irritate the boy to no end. His body might have matured, but his mind had barely done so; he remained an impulsive and cruel child. As he'd expected, his detached touch made his master's face twist in anger.

"Do I have to _order_ you to do _everything_?" He growls, his hands knotting in the black hair. "You know I hate it when you-!"

He was silenced as the demon shifted closer, letting his own tongue trail lingeringly over the demanding mouth.

"Such an impatient master..."

The look in the icy eyes melted to a smoldering lust as his butler drew him into a standing position. The black-nailed hands finished undressing him with practiced ease, and Alois lay back on the bed as his demon finished folding the discarded pieces.

"Come here, Claude..."

He couldn't help but giggle to himself as the dark-haired man obliged, gold eyes glinting in the light of the candles around the room.

"Yes, Alois...?"

He turns into his stomach, gazing at his butler with lustful eyes.

"Closer...I want you touch to me, Claude..."

The blonde moved back toward the edge of the bed as the demon stepped closer. Alois toys with the black ribbon Claude wore around his neck.

"You really don't care for me at all, do you...? You filthy demon."

With a sharp, sudden motion, he jerks the ribbon off, eyes narrowing slightly at the blankness on Claude's face. After moment, he runs his hands through the untidy tresses of black hair, pressing his chest against the demon's.

"Lie to me, Claude...tell me you want me..." He nuzzled his face into the curve where the other man's shoulder met his neck, speaking softly into his ear. "That you _only_ want me..."

"I don't need to lie," Was the measured, emotionless response. "I've told you...Alois..." He finally allowed the boy a bit of what he wanted, letting his fingers graze the skin of his side as he lifted a hand. Alois turned his face into the demon's palm as he cupped his cheek, the gold eyes flashing to the glowing red.

"What have you told me...?"

"I wish to devour my master, to the end..."

The same languid, sensual motion as before, as he drew his tongue over the pouting, vile mouth; this time the boy pulled him closer, eager and shameless as he parted his lips, teasing the tip of the demon's tongue with his own.

He couldn't suppress a cruel laugh as he drew the boy's wet muscle into his own mouth, enjoying for a moment the feeling as they twined and tormented each other. At least he knew better than to ask for affection. But a lie...a lie, he could manage.

Alois let out a lust-filled moan of approval as the demon's hands slipped through the flaxen strands of his hair, but it cut off with a hint of alarm as the grip on him tightened. Smirking against the pliant, pink lips, the demon easily took control of the kiss, slipping his tongue further and further in, until he could taste the boy's soul. His body had stiffened, and he was feebly trying to fight, but it was useless.

Claude released him only after he was satisfied with his little taste, smirking as he brushed the hair from the lighter man's eyes.

"You do have your own qualities that make you..._delicious_..."

Alois' eyes hardened again, and he grabbed a fistful of the black hair.

"_I never said-!_"

He was surprised as Claude covered his mouth with his bare hand, while the gloved one grabbed his wrist.

"You wanted me to touch you," he says in a silken, dangerous murmur. "You said nothing about allowing you to do the same." He shifted, pulling the clenched hand from his hair and pressing only one finger to the boy's lips. "_I_ am in control now, _Alois_..." he mocks the younger with his own request, a dark grin revealing his tiny fangs. "Do you understand...?"

There was still defiance in the blue eyes. He would have to break that overconfident streak. The demon's grin widened slightly as he released the slender wrist he held captive and slid his hand down Alois' chest. The boy let out a hiss at the cool feel of the fabric on his skin, then a groan as the feather-light touch ran over one of his nipples. Claude's thumb traced lazy circles over it, the heat radiating off Alois' skin gradually warming his touch.

"...I believe I asked you a question..." His gaze grew cold as he pinched hard on the sensitive area. "_Do you understand...?_"

The blonde arched with a cry at the sudden change in sensation from pleasure to pain, which in turn only made the demon increase the pressure.

"_Answer me, Alois..._"

"_Fuck! I understand-!_"

He sounded so lovely when he was in pain; it was simply too easy to make him yelp and scream.

"Understand what...?"

"You-you have-!" A pathetic whimper passed his lips as his voice broke. "You have control...!"

"Very good..." The demon let go and gently pushed Alois onto his back, the light, cool touch returning for a moment before it was replaced with the heat of his mouth. Even the soft muscle made the sore skin twinge, but in an oddly pleasant way.

The ungloved hand made its lazy way down the blonde's side as the wicked mouth teased him; Alois couldn't help but give little mewling cries at his butler's attentions. They were met with a dark chuckle from the golden-eyed man, who sat up and gazed at the pale body splayed beneath him with a smirk.

"Sit up," he says quietly, enjoying giving the orders for once. As the smaller man obliged, the demon stood.

"What are you-?"

"Don't ask questions."

"But-!"

Without the slightest change in expression or demeanor, the demon grabbed a fistful of the golden hair and jerked the boy's head back.

"_What did I just say...?_"

"N-not to...ask questions...!"

"And are you going to ask any more...?"

"No-!"

A cruel laugh as he relaxed his hand and slipped it through the soft tresses of hair.

"You wanted to touch me before...do you still want that?"

Alois was wary and a bit afraid to answer, unsure of what the demon had planned, but it would have been a lie to say he didn't want just what was apparently being offered. Unsure of if he was even allowed to speak, he merely nodded, face burning a bright red.

"How unlike you to be so meek...like a stray dog afraid of being kicked..." He took Alois' chin in his hand, smiling cruelly. "'You can take the boy off the streets', hm...?"

The blue eyes flashed, but at a mere twitch of his hand, the hardness fell away again. It sent a thrill down the demon's spine to know it had taken so little to train the man, and that he had complete power over the one who had degraded and belittled him for so long.

"If you want it so badly, undress me."

There was a flicker of defiance again, but it faded on its own this time. With trembling hands, Alois reached up to undo first the buttons on his tailcoat, then his vest and shirt. He kept the demon's gaze all the while, slipping his hands under the layers of cloth to push them off his shoulders. A dark smile had spread slowly over the blonde's lips, and as the clothes fell to the floor, he boldly pressed closer. As his hands traced the delicately muscled torso to Claude's waistband, he leaned forward, nipping at the demon's collarbone, then the base of his neck.

For the time being, he let the boy continue. He wasn't going to deny that it felt good, and the boy's hands were surprisingly adept at the chore he'd been put to.

He steps back as the blonde's hands begin to trace his hipbone, smirking.

"None of that, yet..." He says, a dark smile on his lips. "Lie back."

Alois obediently moves back across the bed, falling into the pillows. Claude can't help but lick his lips, eyes roving over the lithe, pale body as he crossed to the pile of Alois' clothing. He remembered well the morning their contract had become complete, the bruises that had riddled the pre-pubescent frame; never had it looked more beautiful than it had in those moments. He smiles darkly, kicking off his shoes as he climbs onto the bed as well.

"Hold your arms above your head," He orders quietly, smirking. Wary, but not daring to question the demon, Alois does as told; using the ribbon the boy wore around his neck, Claude binds his wrists to the headboard.

"...Perfect..." Running his hands down the boy's chest, the demon smiles. "Now...silence is not what I expect."

Alois nods, giving a whimper as the other man's touch teased.

"However..." He leaned over the boy, their faces mere inches apart. "You will have one opportunity to end all of this..." His voice was a silken purr. "Should you decide to change your mind...you need only say one word, and I will leave. We will never speak of what happened...but if you say that word, it will be the absolute end."

Alois strained to lift his head, bringing his face closer to the demon's.

"And the word is...?"

Claude pulls back, smiling cruelly.

"My name."

"What-?"

The demon ran a hand through Alois' hair, fingers clenching around the strands again.

"_Do we have an understanding?_"

"...Y-yes..."

"Good..."

The demon's touch was hot as his fingertips traced the side of his face, from hairline to temple, cheekbone, to jaw, and continued down his neck and body. The lids of the blue eyes fluttered, but he fearlessly met the fiery red gaze of the other. The demon couldn't help but give a dark chuckle before claiming the impudent mouth in a harsh kiss, as his grip grew tight enough to bruise. Beneath him, Alois' body jerked at the sudden sensation, simultaneously seeking to escape the pressure of his hands and deepen the pleasure of the kiss. Claude pulls away, but his hold on the boy remained.

"None of that," he admonishes with a dark grin. "You'll learn to enjoy it..."

"But-! Cl-"

"My, my...we've barely begun...do you want to stop already...?"

Alois weighs his options; pain would fade, bruises would heal. Was it worth it to end it before it began, as his butler has said?

_No_, he finds himself correcting his own thought. _You're not the master now, are you...?_

"...Don't...don't stop..."

Almost predictably, his grip shifted, but only tightened further around its new hold on they boy's slim hips. He let out a wanton moan as the demon shifted, pressing their bodies together.

"...From reluctant to eager so quickly..." He mocks, his grip somehow growing even tighter. "Do you want it that badly...?"

"Yes-!"

"Then _beg_ for it...like the helpless piece of shit you are..."

If he heard the insult, he didn't react except to try to press himself closer.

"Please...! I want it...!"

"What do you want, Alois...?"

"_I want you to fuck me_!"

A snort from the demon, and his crushing grip vanished. The cool hands ran surprisingly lightly over his thighs, parting them and pulling him into his lap.

"Do you really think you _deserve it?"_

The boy screamed deliciously as he was suddenly and ruthlessly filled, with no preparation or warning. Arching against the bonds on his wrists and the unyielding hold on him, he bit the tender flesh of his lower lip. Thrusting relentlessly into the tight body below him, Claude leaned to capture the worried lip. Sucking on it to draw it into his mouth, he bit down on the soft skin.

"Only I can do that," he growls against the hot mouth. "Don't you dare mark yourself..."

Alois could only nod, whimpering against the demon's rough kiss, trying desperately not to cry out at the pain he was feeling from the unceasing motions of the darker man.

Claude seemed determined to hear his cries, thrusting harder and deeper with every stroke, his breathing ragged grunts. His teeth left off abusing the mouth and followed the path down his neck and to his shoulder, wrenching moans and shouts from the smaller man.

He gave a shriek as Claude hit the sweet spot deep within him, making his body jerk again, this time at the jolt of pleasure. It tempered the pain, but couldn't wash it away.

He felt more than heard the dark chuckle against his throat, the vibrations somehow soothing in comparison to the twinges of pain inflicted by the demon's fangs. His motions remained relentless, but the pain was slowly fading, and even the grip of the hands now tight around his shoulders was enticing, in a way.

The sounds coming from the boy were absolutely beautiful to Claude's ears, the shrieks and shouts feeding the lust within him, pulling him closer to his release. Alois was unbelievably tight, and he writhed deliciously in response to the crude motions as the demon slammed himself again and again into the heat of his body. Claude's ragged breathing grew more irregular, and he bit down hard enough to break that skin as he released himself with a grunting moan, milking himself into the smaller man.

He pulls away, running his hands down Alois' torso and tracing a single finger lightly up his desperate manhood.

"Do you want to cum, Alois...?"

"Yes-!"

He had arched to try and press himself into the demon's hands, but Claude pulled away, laughing darkly.

"Then beg for it..."

"Please...! I...I want you...I want you to...!"

Claude could only smirk as the boy broke off; he had traced his underside with the tip of a fingernail, enjoying watching the way he fought for more contact.

"What do you desire, Alois..."

"You...!" Was the feeble squeal he emitted as Claude shifted, using his tongue instead of his hands to touch him. He deems the answer suitable enough, taking the tip into his mouth and laving the rest with his tongue. Alois' body fought to jerk upward, into the welcoming heat of the other's mouth, but his hips were pinned again by the demon's hands.

He took his time in pleasuring the boy, mixing it again with pain as he scraped his teeth over the rigid organ. He was beginning to move erratically, chest heaving with his pants and gasps as he begged for release.

Claude's hands shifted to his thighs, fingers digging into the tender flesh as Alois finally came. As the boy fell limp, he pulled away, tugging the knot from the ribbon and releasing his arms.

As Alois regained himself, he first saw Claude across the room, dressed as usual. He shifts slowly.

"Cl..." he stops himself. "...Can I...say your name now...?"

The demon pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, golden eyes lost behind light reflecting on the glass.

"Why wouldn't you be able to say my name?"

Alois stares for a moment, then seems to accept what had been said.

"...Draw a bath, Claude..." He says softly. His shoulders were screaming; he was riddled with bruises and bitemarks, angry red patches surrounding imprinted marks of teeth; he was tired and sore beyond anything he'd felt before.

Across the room, the butler gives a small bow, his head tilted forward to hide his dark grin as he appreciated his handiwork.

"Yes, Your Highness."

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Well then. There you go. Hope you like Claude at his finest. He'll be returning next week in the Claude x Grell!

The being said, I'm at something of a loss for the fluff fic next week. PM with ideas if there's something you want to see!


	3. ClaudexGrell Fluff: Disenchanted

Okay, I'm using this pair of one-shots to experiment with a concept for Red and Black. So, when I post the second fic on Sunday like I did last week, you may notice some similarities, but trust me these two go in TOTALLY different directions. I hope you enjoy the fluff between these two while it lasts...it sure as hell ain't gonna be there in the second fic.

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"Rejected again?"

He whirled at the sound of the second voice, stepping back and gripping his scythe more tightly. How _dare_ someone spy on him...!

"How awful it must feel...to be spurned again, and again..."

He recognized the voice, just barely, but at least could discern that this second person wasn't human-was most likely another demon, the same as Sebastian.

"...I remember you..." He says, searching the dark for any sign of where the other was. "That _unremarkable_ butler to the little blonde brat~"

Footsteps from behind him; he turns again, but this time allows his scythe to remain at his side, instead of being held at the ready.

"Did I make enough of an impression to be remembered? You flatter me...Grell."

Something about the way his name passed from the demon's lips grated on his nerves. Leaning on his scythe as he regarded the other coolly, he scoffs.

"I remember wondering how someone of such an impressive race could be so..." A mocking giggle. "Well...unimpressive."

"And what would you consider impressive?"

Grell sighs, patting his lips with one finger as he pretends to think.

"Usually, I would find someone like you to be," He says flippantly. "Tall, dark and mysterious~there's just some quality you notably and desperately lack..."

Claude adjusts his glasses, fighting the smirk that wanted to spread on his lips. Judging from his interactions with the other demon, he hadn't expected the reaper to be difficult to sway. This would make things interesting, at least; he was up for a challenge.

He steps closer, watching as fear briefly flickered behind to green eyes, to be hidden behind the cool, flirtatious manner again.

"Is there no way to make you change your mind?"

Grell attempts to step back as Claude reached to touch his cheek; forgetting about his scythe, he trips over it. The demon can't help but laugh softly as he catches the redhead before he could fall.

"O-oh..." Was all he could manage, held unexpectedly close to the demon. The golden eyes glinted in the moonlight before flashing to the demonic, burning red.

"Tell me, then. What is this quality that I lack...that I might find a way to compensate."

Flustered by Claude's proximity-and the hand snaking its way up his side-Grell regains his balance and pulls away, flicking the long locks of his red hair over his shoulder.

"So rude!" He makes a face. "To attempt to force yourself on a delicate lady..."

Claude pauses, assessing how to react. He'd almost forgotten that the reaper considered himself a woman, for all intents and purposes, and almost always referred to himself as such. Perhaps a direct tactic wasn't the best in this situation.

"I apologize," He says quietly, even giving a small bow. "How dreadfully impolite of me." How to proceed now was a thorny question; it hadn't taken long to establish the redhead as unstable, at best.

"What do you want?" He was asking, eyes narrowed behind the red-framed glasses. Behind the disdain, though, there was some amount of interest. "You've been rather rude all night, come to think of it-spying on a conversation between lovers...!"

"Lovers? Forgive me if I say that your desired paramour seems as passionless as you are ardent."

He could see that he'd struck a nerve with that statement, had found the tender, fleshy spot in the erratic personality. He could irritate the slightest bit more and have the reaper tumbling into his arms.

"How long have you been pursuing him now? It's been quite the while, hasn't it...?" Cautious, he took a step forward, testing Grell's reaction. "He left you with broken promises...and he hasn't apologized, has he? Now _that_ doesn't seem to be the way to treat a woman..."

Once again, he could see the effect his words had; now, to turn it around.

"That man will never love you, Grell. I hate to say it bluntly...but his mind is focused solely on the acquisition of the boy's soul."

The beautiful, futile defiance in his eyes; he was indeed wrapped up in his fantasy about the other demon, but it was slowly unraveling about him.

"When he finally claims what he wants, he isn't going to stay here...he's going to leave you again, without a word. You may not even know he's gone... not until Ciel Phantomhive's soul is found to be...'missing'...that is."

Grell bites his lip to stop it from quivering. There was a part of his mind that acknowledged-_agreed_ with-everything Claude was saying, and despite all his efforts to silence it, it only grew stronger with every word the demon spoke. After all-Sebastian had vanished once, hadn't he? Not a single word for almost two years, and hardly a favorable reaction when they'd met again. His whole life revolved around one thing: the contract.

"...I didn't want to upset you," Claude says, taking another step closer to Grell. "It seems I've committed another unforgiveable act tonight..."

"_Oh?_" Was the sharp, snapping reply. Claude offers his handkerchief to the reaper.

"I've made you cry..."

Grell snatches the tissue, half-turning away as he dabs at his eyes. Furious at himself for allowing the demon's words to affect him so, he clenches his jaw and resolves to remain immune to any other tricks his might have up his sleeve.

"Unforgiveable, indeed," He says as haughtily as he can manage, dropping the kerchief instead of returning it to the butler.

"Shall I make it up to you?"

He had intended to leave, to erase this conversation from his mind. But he found his interest piqued, despite himself.

"...What are you talking about."

"You've sought something ever since you met him...a simple enough thing to grant...yet something he refuses to give you..."

"I don't know what you're talking abo-"

He falls abruptly silent as Claude bent to retrieve his handkerchief, accidentally-on-purpose allowing his hand to brush down Grell's leg as he knelt. He straightened slowly, his demeanor revealing nothing about the light, electrifying contact.

"...You don't know what I'm talking about...?" A soft, dark laugh as his eyes turned to the burning red again. "I think you do..." Gently, he turned the reaper to face him and leaned to smell the crimson locks of hair, whispering in Grell's ear.

"You've been desperate in your pursuit of a demon's kiss..."

He felt the blood rush into the redhead's cheeks, heat suddenly radiating off the reddened skin. It was promising-and that, perhaps, was an understatement.

"He isn't the only one that can offer it," He continues, a hand resting against his neck as the same thumb ran over the slope of his jaw. "And seeing as he hasn't been...generous, shall we say...please, allow me..."

Exactly as he had intended, the reaper was beyond the ability to react as he shifted and pressed their lips together. What could have been a feeble attempt to fight was halted by the languorous motion of the demon's tongue, passing over his lips and seeking to slip between them. There was no fight left in him to resist the not-unwelcome intrusion, and with very little opposition, he gave himself over completely. Within moments, he had fallen against the demon's chest, clinging to him, the only solid thing left in his world.

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It's so odd to me, being a Grell/Seb shipper, to write him with another demon! Did I do an okay job...? ()-/- I tried...

Anyway. So many of you like Claude! Next week is Seb/Claude! It's like a Claude mini-marathon! Ah well, he's pretty fun to write.

Re-posting the poll tonight! Please keep voting!


	4. ClaudeGrell Will You Walk Into My Parlor

Okay. If you read 'Disenchanted', the beginning of this may seem a little familiar. I assure you. They are faaaaaaaar from the same.

If you've read any of my other stuff, you know how much I really do love Grell and I APOLOGIZE PROFUSELY IN ADVANCE...read on to figure out what I'm talking about...

RATED M. Dominance/abuse/no sex/bondage

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"Rejected again?"

He whirled at the sound of the second voice, stepping back and gripping his scythe more tightly. How _dare_ someone spy on him...!

"How awful it must feel...to be spurned again, and again..."

He recognized the voice, just barely, but at least could discern that this second person wasn't human-was most likely another demon, the same as Sebastian.

"...I remember you..." He says, searching the dark for any sign of where the other was. "That _unremarkable_ butler to the little blonde brat~"

Footsteps from behind him; he turns again, but this time allows his scythe to remain at his side, instead of being held at the ready.

"Did I make enough of an impression to be remembered? You flatter me...Grell."

Something about the way his name passed from the demon's lips grated on his nerves. Leaning on his scythe as he regarded the other coolly, he scoffs.

"I remember wondering how someone of such an impressive race could be so..." A mocking giggle. "Well...unimpressive."

"And what would you consider impressive?"

Grell sighs, patting his lips with one finger as he pretends to think.

"Usually, I would find someone like you to be," He says flippantly. "Tall, dark and mysterious~there's just some quality you notably and desperately lack..."

Claude adjusts his glasses, fighting the smirk that wanted to spread on his lips. Judging from his interactions with the other demon, he hadn't expected the reaper to be difficult to sway. This would make things interesting, at least; he was up for a challenge.

He steps closer, watching as fear briefly flickered behind to green eyes, to be hidden behind the cool, flirtatious manner again.

"Is there no way to make you change your mind?"

Grell attempts to step back as Claude reached to touch his cheek; forgetting about his scythe, he trips over it. The demon can't help but laugh softly as he catches the redhead before he could fall.

"O-oh..." Was all he could manage, held unexpectedly close to the demon. The golden eyes glinted in the moonlight before flashing to the demonic, burning red.

"Tell me, then. What is this quality that I lack...that I might find a way to compensate."

Flustered by Claude's proximity-and the hand snaking its way up his side-Grell regains his balance and pulls away, flicking the long locks of his red hair over his shoulder.

"So rude!" He makes a face. "To attempt to force yourself on a delicate lady..."

Ah, that was going to get annoying. He'd almost forgotten that the reaper considered himself a woman, for all intents and purposes, and almost always referred to himself as such. Perhaps a direct tactic wasn't the best in this situation.

"I apologize," He says quietly, even giving a small bow. "How dreadfully impolite of me." How to proceed now was a thorny question; it hadn't taken long to establish the redhead as unstable, at best.

He settles on flattery, hoping to lower the reaper's guard before attempting anything else.

"What do you want?" He was asking, eyes narrowed behind the red-framed glasses. Behind the disdain, though, there was some amount of interest. "You've been rather rude all night, come to think of it-spying on a conversation between lovers...!"

"Lovers? Forgive me if I say that your desired paramour seems as passionless as you are ardent."

He could see that he'd struck a nerve with that statement, had found the tender, fleshy spot in the erratic personality that was begging to be stabbed. Now to twist the knife.

"How long have you been pursuing him now? It's been quite the while, hasn't it...?" Cautious, he took a step forward, testing Grell's reaction. "He left you with broken promises...and he hasn't apologized, has he? Now _that_ doesn't seem to be the way to treat a woman..."

The term left a sour taste in his mouth, but he knew there would be no getting what he wanted if he didn't play by at least some of the reaper's rules.

Once again, he could see the effect his words had; now to twist the pain into what he needed.

"That man will never love you, Grell. I hate to say it bluntly...but his mind is focused solely on the acquisition of the boy's soul."

The beautiful, futile defiance in his eyes; while it wasn't _as_ easy to manipulate the mind of a shinigami, it was far from impossible, and he knew exactly which buttons to push.

"When he finally claims what he wants, he isn't going to stay here...he's going to leave you again, without a word. You may not even know he's gone... not until Ciel Phantomhive's soul is found to be...'missing'...that is."

Grell bites his lip to stop it from quivering. There was a part of his mind that acknowledged-_agreed_ with-everything Claude was saying, and despite all his efforts to silence it, it only grew stronger with every word the demon spoke. After all-Sebastian had vanished once, hadn't he? Not a single word for almost two years, and hardly a favorable reaction when they'd met again. His whole life revolved around one thing: the contract.

"...I didn't want to upset you," Claude says, taking another step closer to Grell. "It seems I've committed another unforgiveable act tonight..."

"_Oh?_" Was the sharp, snapping reply. He offers his handkerchief to the reaper.

"I've made you cry..."

Grell snatches the tissue, half-turning away as he dabs at his eyes. Furious at himself for allowing the demon's words to affect him so, he clenches his jaw and resolves to remain immune to any other tricks his might have up his sleeve.

"Unforgiveable, indeed," He says as haughtily as he can manage, dropping the kerchief instead of returning it to the butler.

"Shall I make it up to you?"

He had intended to leave, to erase this conversation from his mind. But he found his interest piqued, despite himself.

"...What are you talking about."

"You've sought something ever since you met him...a simple enough thing to grant...yet something he refuses to give you..."

"I don't know what you're talking abo-"

He falls abruptly silent as Claude bent to retrieve his handkerchief, accidentally-on-purpose allowing his hand to brush down Grell's leg as he knelt. He straightened slowly, his demeanor revealing nothing about the light, electrifying contact.

"...You don't know what I'm talking about...?" A soft, dark laugh as his eyes turned to the burning red again. "I think you do..." Gently, he turned the reaper to face him and leaned to smell the crimson locks of hair, whispering in Grell's ear.

"You've been desperate in your pursuit of a demon's kiss..."

He felt the blood rush into the redhead's cheeks, heat suddenly radiating off the reddened skin. It was promising-and that, perhaps, was an understatement.

"He isn't the only one that can offer it," He continues, a hand resting against his neck as the same thumb ran over the slope of his jaw. "And seeing as he hasn't been...generous, shall we say...please, allow me..."

Exactly as he had intended, the reaper was beyond the ability to react as he shifted and pressed their lips together. What could have been a feeble attempt to fight was halted by the languorous motion of the demon's tongue, passing over his lips and seeking to slip between them. There was no fight left in him to resist the not-unwelcome intrusion, and with very little opposition, he gave himself over completely.

Claude smirks as the last of the shinigami's will fades; moments later, he fell limp, so much dead weight against his chest.

"Snare the victim," He says to himself with a dark snicker. "Allow it to wear itself out, trying to escape...and only then make your move..."

Carelessly throwing the reaper's lifeless form over his shoulder, he sets off into the night.

}~*~{

_...Nn...what...? Where am I...?_

The room swam before the shinigami's eyes as he opened them; he couldn't for the life of him discern his surroundings, what was up and what was down. Try as he might, he also found he couldn't move-and as the panic rose in him and he tried to scream, it finally came to his attention that he was gagged.

"Ah...finally awake...?"

Panic turned to terror at the sound of the demon's voice. He could hear his footsteps, but they echoed around the chamber, making it impossible to pinpoint where he was approaching from.

"I didn't think it would take so long for you to regain consciousness...ah, well. You're awake now."

He finally realized where the demon was a cold touch traced his spine. He couldn't suppress the shudder than ran through him, giving him gooseflesh. Was he only shirtless? Or completely naked? He couldn't tell, and it did nothing to soothe his nerves.

Claude gave a dark chuckle as he stepped into Grell's vision. His surroundings fell into place; he was suspended upside down.

"Have you realized by now your situation...?" Candles were sparking to life around the dark room, too sparse to offer much distinction, but just enough to see more clearly. "I'm sure you've noticed you can't move..."

Indeed he had, but the gag stopped him from responding.

"I suppose I should tell you why you're here..." A cruel smirk spread across the demon's lips, tiny fangs peeking through as he spoke. "I want information. And you are going to give it to me."

Grell tried to grasp what kind of information Claude wanted to go to these lengths. He was uncomfortably close, his face just at eye level, and his touch returned. Icy hands skimmed his shoulders and ran over his collarbones.

"If you resist," he continues, "I have no qualms about resorting to...crude measures."

As he felt Claude's hands fumbling at his neck, but never touching his skin, Grell realized there was some kind of collar on him; there was a faint jingling sound he couldn't identify, but the look in the demonic butler's eyes did little more than terrify him even more.

"For every time you refuse to answer me, you can expect me to pull this tighter," he says, jerking on the unseen choker until it restricted him to only thin, wheezing gasps for air. "How fortunate, that to breathe is only necessary if you want to speak..." He looks Grell up and down for a moment, then tsks.

"I suppose this is redundant, now..." he says, removing the gag. "Now, before I have to resort to any other measures...tell me what you know about Sebastian Michaelis and his contract to the boy."

"I-I don't-"

Claude's voice was a dangerous hiss.

"_You don't...?_"

"I don't know...about their contract..."

He sighs, toying with the collar again.

"Just keep in mind, Grell Sutcliff..." He pulls it one notch tighter, cutting off his windpipe completely. "The longer you keep me waiting, the less pleasant I will be. Maybe we'll find out tonight if a snapped neck means death for your kind..."

He laughs as he green eyes widened, pupils dilating with fear.

"I won't get there just yet," he says, picking up an object Grell couldn't quite see in the gloom. "But rest assured, it wouldn't be hard to pull that collar tightly enough to do the job. However, in the mean time..."

He jerks his arm, and the resulting _crack_ told Grell exactly what he was holding, just before the second strike of the whip sent a white-hot streak of pain across his chest. His body fought to jerk in its bonds, but it was useless. Escaping the lashing was impossible, each strike flaying his skin and leaving a burning pain. He could feel rivulets of blood begin to flow, staining his chest his favorite color.

He lost count of the lashes, the lacerations. Eventually, the demon left off, smirking again.

"Somehow, I don't think that's loosened your tongue at all..." He says, eyes burning red in the darkness. "Care to prove me wrong?"

He met the demon's gaze, defiant.

"No? How predictable."

He discarded the whip, stepping forward.

"I will give you one chance..." Claude undoes the belt-like buckle on the collar, allowing it to open enough that he could breath. "Do you intend to give me what I want?"

"Neve-hrk-!"

Grell was cut off mid-word as Claude jerked the collar tight again, fastening it a notch tighter than before.

"You've already begun to bruise, you know," He says. "Such a beautiful sight." He smirks, drawing a finger through the streaks on blood on Grell's chest and licking it clean. "And you're delicious, as well..."

He gave a quiet, twisted laugh, reaching up to undo the two leather straps that held Grell's arms at his sides-one around his chest, at his elbows, the other at his wrists. The latter were already bound with rope, and, pulling a hook on a chain seemingly out of nowhere, Claude hooks the length around it, jerking on a length of rope that hoisted the chain. Grell bit his lip against the pain as the rope bit into his skin. Hanging by both his wrists and ankles at least allowed the blood to flow away from his head and back to the rest of him, and he notes with a detached relief that he at least wasn't naked. The demon had only removed his shirt.

"Well...don't you look comfortable..."

The words sent a chill lancing down his spine. The demon roughly hefted and flipped him. His chest facing the floor now, his shoulders pulled at an angle that defied their build, he felt pain building almost immediately.

"Much better..."

He took up the whip again, surveying Grell for a moment as he cracked it lazily in the air. As Grell's eyes grew wide, he only laughed.

"I did warn you," he says, cracking the whip once more in the air.

}~*~{

"You still refuse...? Admirable."

Grell's entire body was shrieking in protest; his throat was constricted very nearly to the point of crushing his trachea, his chest little more than a bloodied mess of torn skin. After the second whipping, Claude had put further strain on his joints by weighting his waist; he had just removed them and tightened the collar yet again. The reaper wondered numbly what his next 'punishment' would be.

"I'm losing my patience, Grell Sutcliff. I hadn't expected the need to use this."

Grell couldn't even begin to imagine what the demon was referring to. He was out of the reaper's line of vision, but he could hear him, and the crackling of the fire he had lit earlier. Hours ago? Minutes? He no longer had any sense of how much time had passed.

Footsteps as he returned.

"You really are quite stubborn," He says, smirking. "Stubborn as a mule...but there are ways to make even the most stubborn do what you want..."

He stepped into Grell's sight, smiling cruelly as the tired pain in the green eyes turned to absolute terror. He was making some effort to move away, but he was held fast by his awkward positioning.

"You should have given in, Grell Sutcliff."

His eyes, wide and desperate, followed the glowing end of the branding iron as far as they could. Tears welled in them as it fell out of his view, and moments later his body fought to jerk away from the agonizing pain as the red-hot, spider-shaped end was pressed to his lower back, above his right hip. The sheer, unending pain as he was burned was all-encompassing. His surroundings faded to a grey haze as the hurt took over, his strangled throat trying desperately to scream.

Even as the brand was removed, the searing pain stayed just as sharp. Claude returned to his line of vision, eyes flat, cold, and merciless.

"Will you tell me what I want now?" He growls. "Refuse once more and I will brand this mark into your disgusting face."

He could only nod in his submission. Claude slackened the chain holding his wrists up, yanking it away and leisurely removing the collar around Grell's neck. Hanging upside-down again, his wrists dangling above his head, he was acutely aware of how vulnerable he still was. It was hardly beyond his captor to continue to abuse him, despite the fact that he had surrendered.

He hated the feeling of being broken, of giving in to what the other wanted, but he couldn't take any more. He couldn't stop the words spilling from his mouth, everything he knew about the contracted pair. He was sobbing openly, but it didn't matter anymore; his dignity had been stripped of him already. His shoulders were screaming, his shredded torso was full of white-hot pain, and his throat could barely handle the amount of work he was putting it to, after its constriction. The sobs and hacking coughs brought an acrid, metallic taste to his mouth, and he could feel the blood welling up from his throat, coating his lips as he spoke. The brand on his back throbbed, spiking into his consciousness and making his eyesight hazy. He was going to pass out; better give him what he wanted than to awaken and have to endure further torture.

_I'm sorry, Sebastian_...He thinks miserably, all the while aware of the steady stream of incrimination flowing from his lips. _I don't know what trouble he'll cause you...but I'm so sorry..._

Eventually, the words ran dry. Hanging like a grotesque marionette, he lifts his head just enough to meet the demon's gaze, the green eyes full of pain and pleading.

"I've told you what you want to know..." He whimpers, fighting back the grey haze that threatened to take over. "Please let me go..."

The demon regarded him with disdain for a moment, but he sneers and crosses the room.

"You've served your purpose," He growls, pulling a lever. The chain holding Grell by his ankles went suddenly slack, and he dropped heavily to the floor. Landing on his back, the excruciating pain on the mark burned into his skin finally claimed his consciousness.

}~*~{

"Finally awake?"

A rush of memories at the words sent an icy chill of fear shooting down his spine; the glimpse shadowy figure dressed in black standing over him was enough to make him tremble all over.

"No-no...! No more...!"

"Grell?"

The voice; it wasn't the same as that one had been. It wasn't...warm, exactly, but there was some kind of compassion in it, mingled with only the mildest irritation and exasperation. It was a voice he knew.

"W...Will...?"

The impression of the demon fell away as he took in the clean-cut and neatly styled hair, the eyes that were green, not gold.

"You were found outside the Trancy Manor some time last week." Brisk and down to business as usual. It was oddly comforting. "I had chalked the incident up to your usual incompetence before the reports of your injuries came in."

Grell could feel the tears welling in his eyes. That night would haunt him forever. He knew he would wake, screaming, from dreams vivid enough to recreate the pain, that the burn on his back would never fade or completely heal over.

"I-I'm sor-"

In a rare moment of tolerance, Will raises a hand to silence him.

"A dispatch team has been sent out to eradicate the demon Claude Faustus. You will not be penalized for any work your are missing." The flatness in Will's eyes softened by the tiniest degree. "Right now, your only concern should be your recovery."

He wanted to feel grateful; he wanted to react as he would have a week ago, with a coy smile and a flirtatious comment, but he couldn't bring himself to act that way. His light-hearted personality had been utterly shattered, leaving him empty and void of his usual spark. He only nodded in response to Will's comment, closing his eyes and trying to sleep again.

_Maybe he'll like me better this way_, he thinks bitterly, blinking back the tears that began to fall as he surrendered again to sleep's welcome embrace.

}~*~*~*~*~*~{

WAAAAAAAAH I'M SSSSOOOORRRRRRRRRRRYYYYYYY! Grell I love you I sweeeeeaaaaaarrrrrrrrr!

I meant for this to be much more similar to 'Entangled'...Claude had a very different plan...sorry if it's not what you were expecting...I really do love Grell, I'm not always mean to him I promise! -sniffle- Claude's just a meanie...I liked him better in 'Disenchanted'...

Anyway. Seb/Claude next week. There will be more bondage. What is it with Claude and bondage...?


	5. GrellxWill Fluff: The Way You Were

...I couldn't resist. This is a continuation of "Will You Walk Into My Parlor". I couldn't leave poor Grell like that! So here's some fluff. William can manage to make things better sometimes~3

"...You wanted to see me...?"

Grell peered around the door to William's office, eyes downcast. They flicked upward briefly to meet the other man's, then resumed their inspection of the floor.

"Come inside. Close the door behind you."

Grell silently obeys, standing mere inches into the room and still staring at the ground.

"...It has come to my attention that you are not acting like yourself," William says, adjusting his glasses. "I assume it has everything to do with your unwilling contact with the demon, Claude Faustus?"

Grell shudders to remember the day, nodding. The motion was barely perceptible.

"Yes, sir."

"As you know, there are services we offer regarding the mental and emotional health of our staff. Yet you have refused them."

"...I don't see the point, sir. It will neither erase what happened or 'fix' it."

He had never heard Grell speak in anything so close to a monotone before. The usually flamboyant reaper was subdued beyond Will's imagination; his personality had become so bland he all but blended into the walls. His only distinguishing trait now was his posture. He stood the way one stands when being noticed is the absolute last thing desired, shoulders drawn up a bit, hunched forward slightly, hands perpetually wringing each other or in loosely clenched fists. This new demeanor was slightly disturbing, and certainly didn't suit the redhead.

_Ah, but he's not anymore, is he?_

That was the first thing that had caught Will's attention; Grell's sudden detachment to his once-favorite color. He had remained for the past week a brunette, taken to wearing his proper uniform, and even gone so far to eliminate the color from his person as to obtain a new pair of glasses with black frames. Even his shoes weren't the red-accented heels. What had finally been too much to ignore was the swapping of his customized scythe for the standard issue that most reapers carried.

"There is no penalty for excusing yourself on the basis of-"

"But I think I've made enough work for others, don't you?" The distinct sigh in his voice told that he wasn't referring solely to his time out of commission to heal. "How many times have you alone told me that my incompetence is 'astounding', and 'very nearly impossible to correct'?"

Will only sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Grell-"

"Don't you prefer me this way?" There was a touch of bitterness creeping into the empty voice, but a distinct sadness almost overpowered it. "Isn't it much easier to have subordinates that do as directed, by the book, on time, in an organized fashion?" He finally looks up, hollow eyes meeting Will's. "Isn't this exactly what you always wanted me to be?"

"A wraith?" William could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. He was getting defensive despite himself. "A shell that can do nothing but follow orders and drain the happiness of everyone they interact with? No, Grell, I _never_ wanted that."

Something flickered to life briefly, deep in Grell's empty gaze; William had never referred to him with anything other than his full name. He remains silent, though. After a moment, Will continues, forcing himself to regain his composure.

"...You've changed your appearance," He says. "Drastically. For what reason?"

Grell's eyes slid away from his again, and he shifted uncomfortably.

"It was time to grow up...stop acting like an immature attention-seeker. ...I intend on cutting my hair soon, as well."

"_What?_"

Grell's hair might as well have been his pride and joy. The effeminate man spent countless hours maintaining the long mane. He could scarcely imagine what he would look like without it hanging, a silken sheet, down his back. There was something else to it as well; chopping off his hair severed himself from his claim of femininity.

"Don't cut your hair, Grell."

A blush crept into the timid reaper's cheeks.

"It's frivolous and-"

"And it's as much a part of you as your arm or leg," Will says firmly, surprised at the words leaving his mouth. "Don't."

Grell looks up again, a tired question in his eyes. He was acting exactly as Will had always told him to. Why was he suddenly telling him the opposite?

Will had risen to his feet, and was standing on the other side of his desk. Grell sighs, miserably looking to the ground again.

"Even when I do what you want, I'm doing something wrong. ...Am I really so hopelessly incompetent...?"

"No." Will's voice was surprisingly soft. "You aren't yourself, Grell. That worries me." He pauses for a moment, then allows himself to continue. "...Deeply."

"Don't let it bother you," was the hollow reply. "It won't change anything."

Will steps closer to Grell, touching his shoulder. He jerked away from the contact, but relaxed after a long moment.

"You jump whenever someone touches you, Grell. Do you really expect that I won't be concerned?"

He still refused to meet his eye, turning red again. William rubs his arm, the action the finally prompted the other to look at him.

"Grell..."

Tears were welling in his eyes; his lower lip was quivering. Surprisingly, Will opened his arms, and Grell tumbled into them, breaking down and beginning to sob.

He had never expected William to offer the most basic comfort as an embrace, but he held him close and allowed him to cry, openly and raggedly, into his shoulder. Grell clung to him, finally letting out the tears he fought back each night with tightly-shut eyes and a clenched jaw. No one had offered any kind of condolence to him, skirting him with quickly averted gazes. Conversations dropped to hushed whispers when he was near, but furtive glances betrayed what they were speaking of. He'd become quite the topic of conversation, which, ordinarily, he'd have adored. The rumors and lies flying around, however, were not anything he wanted discussed.

"Grell, can you...tell me what happened?"

The weeping reaper's arms tightened around Will's neck. He had said nothing of what had happened, unable to bring himself to recount the events of that night.

"Please, Grell. So I can better understand..."

He took a shuddering breath, trying to calm down. Eventually, he begins to speak in an emotionless monotone, still resting against Will. His voice grows steadily softer as he continues to speak, trying to be as vague as possible. He was fine recounting most of the encounter; when the story behind the burn on his back came up, his voice began to choke with tears. It was comforting that as he spoke, Will only held him more tightly.

"Grell..." He breathes as the timid man finally finishes, lapsing back into soft sobs.

"H-he..."

"There's no need to even speak of him any longer," Will says. "Don't concern yourself with it. The other demon destroyed him in a duel."

"Sebastian...?"

"Claude Faustus was eliminated by Sebastian Michaelis' hand, yes." William could feel himself slipping back toward his usual, professional self, but he fought the impulse to detach, knowing Grell still needed reassurance.

"Why...?"

"I don't give a damn."

Grell pulls back, looking shocked at the uncharacteristic statement. William sighs sadly, knowing his next statement wouldn't help with Grell's current attitude.

"However...both Sebastian Michaelis and Ciel Phantomhive have vanished."

The change was obvious and immediate, but not to the extent he had expected; Grell merely shifted from shock to his usual, apprehensive demeanor.

"I...I never expected him to stay here for long."

"As inappropriate as it was, I know you pursued him."

Grell shrugs, failing to be offhand. There was something more than sadness behind his eyes as he glanced quickly at Will and away again. There was a hint of fear, as well.

"...I'm not sure I would want to...pursue him any longer...regardless."

William blinks, remembering the decades Grell had spent attempting to gain his own affection. To give up after only a year or two was unlike him.

_But Michaelis is also a demon..._He realizes, recognizing the source behind the odd fear in Grell's eyes. Moving seemingly in spite of himself again, he pulls Grell back to his chest.

"I miss the way you were," He finds himself saying quietly. "Stay this way, if it makes it easier for you...but...I won't sleep easy until I have a redhead bounding into my office each day...overzealous to the point of incompetence."

Grell looks up from Will's shoulder, where he had buried his face again. Will runs a hand through the smaller mans' hair, the brown brightening to red and his fingers slipped through it and dulling again as they passed.

"...Don't cut your hair," He says firmly, stepping away. Grell only stares, mouth slightly agape, as Will surveys him for a moment and sighs.

"Your glasses, Grell."

Instantly, he grabbed one of the arms, panicking.

"My-? Why-?"

He only beckoned for him to hand them over. Beginning to tremble lightly again, Grell removes them and places them in Will's hand.

"Thank you..."

Near-blind without them, he stands uncertainly, unnerved without his sight. He could hear Will shifting things around, then footsteps.

"Please," Will says, finally finding what he was looking for, "Wear these again."

He slips the red-framed glasses Grell used to wear into place, watching him blink in confusion again. Unable to keep himself from smiling gently, he kisses Grell's reddened cheek.

"And don't be afraid to come to me again."

The blush on Grell's cheeks deepened, and for the first time in weeks, a smile crept across his lips, his shark-like teeth peeking out.


	6. SebxGrell Fluff: A Poor Choice of Words

It was truly amazing how he could still contort his spine in such a way; the strength in the reaper's body was incredible. But he was gasping, drawing droplets of blood on his lower lip as his teeth punctured the skin.

"No...no more..."

"This was what you said you wanted."

Another ragged, gasping cry from the reaper; his body jerked in response to the demon's actions.

"I c-can't-! Stop...please..."

"I'm sure you'll be fine." There was a mocking smirk in the demon's voice. "You're far from your limit."

A pathetic whimper passed the bleeding lip; his hands, wrapped around the footboard, clenched tighter.

"S-so...tight..."

A soft, derisive laugh from behind him.

"I'd have thought you were used to this, by now..."

More impossible shapes created by his spine; a breathless moan reached the demon's ears as the reaper fought to speak.

"...Never...like th-this..."

He pauses long enough to shift one hand-relieving a tiny bit of the pressure-and caress the reaper's neck.

"Relax, Grell. The more tense you are, the less pleasant it will be."

Another whimper passed his lips, but some of the tension in his body leeched away, his spine returning to an almost-normal position.

"Very good..." The demon patronizes, suddenly and ruthlessly continuing, making him cry out most pitifully, his voice breaking.

"N-not so hard...!" He begs, green eyes clenched tightly closed against the pain. "...M-more slowly..."

Another cry wrenched from his lips as the demon disregarded his pleas.

"This way is much more effective."

"S...Sebastian..."

The reaper looked over his shoulder, bits of hair clinging to his face, eyes desperate and pleading. The demon met the gaze calmly.

"Really now," he says, smirking. "Only you could make such an expression so...wanton."

Another shout as his actions grew even more coarse. Sebastian tsks.

"Such noises are so un-ladylike..."

"Such actions are-" A helpless, desperate groan, "Far from that of a gentleman's..."

"I told you." He watched, amused by the response to his actions. "I'm only doing what you asked of me."

"I never asked-ah...! To be...treated like this...!"

"A mere secondary result of your request."

"...Could you...at least..." Another contortion of the spine. "...Not...act so... distantly...?"

"How am I supposed to act? I've never experienced what you're going through...nor do I ever intend to."

Another whimper and more blood drawn on the lip.

"...Are you almost done...?"

"Very nearly. However, the more you move, the more I have to correct. So please, straighten out your back-how you managed to even bend it that way at this point is beyond me. May I suggest moving your grip to the bed-post?"

Groaning, he does so, wincing at the series of quick, sharp movements of his fingers that only increased the pressure.

"Maybe next time you should be more careful in what you say," Sebastian remarks, stepping back to survey his handiwork. "Perhaps 'as tight as possible' was a poor choice of words? Though...your waist does look excellent."

Grell turns, eyes blazing, a hand on his hip.

"I'd meant as tight as _I_ could possibly stand-not as tight as _you_ could tie the damn corset!"

Sebastian smirks, tracing the exaggerated curve the impossibly tight garment created on the reaper's torso.

"Then don't leave so much room for interpretation. ...The fact that reapers don't need to breathe, though, most certainly gives you an advantage when wearing one."

"It doesn't mean my ribcage isn't meeting where it shouldn't...!"

He silences the irate death god with a kiss, lapping away the blood that had seeped from his lip, mildly off-put by the rigid posture the boning in the corset kept him in. It made him wonder-yet again-how he had managed to defy the oppressive cage and bend in such ways...and if he could do that with one on, what could he do without any restrictions...?

"Shall I help you into the dress...m'lady?"

He received a sharp rap on the head with the fan Grell had snatched up for the teasing question, but it didn't hurt, nor was is meant to. He smiles as he carries the heavy concoction of black lace, matching silk, and red velvet over, carefully helping the other into it and deftly doing up the numerous buttons down the back.

"...What do you plan on doing with your hair...?" He can't help but ask as Grell swings the heavy sheet back over his shoulder.

"You'll see in a moment..."

Sebastian watches as Grell turns to a mirror, easily twisting, hefting, pinning, twining, and-somehow-curling his hair until much of it was held in a delicate, elegant bun, but tendrils were left to cascade down to his shoulders. When he turned, he could see that his bangs had been swept to one side, held by pins hidden in the thick locks. Blushing slightly, cheeks lightly rouged, lips coated in an attractive red, and gazing at him from beneath painted eyes, he did look extremely feminine-so much so that for a moment he wondered if he would be able to remember that Grell was, in fact, a man. The illusion was so complete that even muscles of his chest-pressed together and compacted as they were by the corset-appeared to resemble a woman's bosom.

"...How do I look?"

Sebastian struggles to find an eloquent response.

"...Feminine."

Grell's expression fell; he fixed Sebastian with an unimpressed gaze. The demon steps closer, turning a bit pink in the face.

"What...? You...look like a...very...beautiful...woman."

The expression changed into a wry but timid smile. Sebastian tsks, touching his lip.

"You might, however, want to do something about those teeth."


	7. SebxGrell: You Owe Me One

Weekly One-Shot #4! I'll be posting one-shots on Fridays from now on, instead of posting both on Tuesdays.

Takes place during the Season 1 OVA! Backstage GrellxSeb luvin'...I couldn't resist. Begins right around the time of Ophelia's...exit, follows the timeline of the episode (I have never read Hamlet, I have no idea of the actual run of the play, I'm going on exactly what happened in the ep)

For Battygirl~

Enjoy~

Sebastian sighs as he catches sight of Grell moping about in the stage left wing; he doubted he was truly upset about his truncated role, but all the same, it was plain that it had rubbed him the wrong way.

Feeling the eyes trained on him, Grell glanced about and turned red as he caught Sebastian's gaze. A quick series of calculations ran through the demon's mind, and his eyes cut to the door that led to the dressing room before meeting the other's again.

The blush on Grell's cheeks deepened and he lowered his gaze, shuffling a bit as laughter rose from the audience.

_Two scene changes with Hamlet's famous soliloquy between them. Plenty of time to find some way to make sure he doesn't do anything ridiculous._

He moves silently toward the room; no one would question it if Grell followed him in. Surely enough, it wasn't long before the redhead peeked in after him, slipping into the room quietly.

The words fell from Sebastian's lips before he had time to process them.

"That costume suits you very well..."

Grell turns pink, staring at Sebastian in mild shock. Had he beckoned him in here just to say that? It made no sense at all.

"Th...thank you...?"

The reaper still had his hands held close to his chest, shoulders raised, giving him a sweet, vulnerable air. The mild confusion on his face was positively adorable, and it was slowly eating away at Sebastian's distaste for the other man. He gives a soft laugh, stepping closer.

"You are quite the _actress_," he purrs softly. "...Ophelia is certainly a role that only you in our motley group could play..."

The blush on Grell's cheeks grew darker, and he fidgeted slightly, a smile creeping across his face as he stepped closer to the demon.

"Well~...you make a stunning Laertes..." He flutters his eyelashes, meeting Sebastian's gaze from the corner of his eye. "...I'd rather have you~ than our half-size Hamlet..."

Sebastian wasn't sure if it was just to tease the other or if he meant it as he pulled Grell close, wrapping his arms around him.

"Be careful what you wish for..."

The redhead bit his lip, giggling as he slipped his arms around the demon's neck.

"I've been wishing for this for a _long_ time~"

He should have expected Grell's next action, but for some reason it hadn't occurred to him what would happen if he held the love-struck reaper so close. As such, he was caught quite off his guard as Grell pressed their lips together.

_What-? How did this-? I never even meant to _compliment_ him-!_

He jerked away, glaring daggers at the other man, who gazed at him with a triumphant light in his eyes. Finally, a kiss with the demon!

"_What the hell were you doing-?"_

He let out a sound that was somewhere between a squeal and a giggle.

"Be careful what you say, Sebas~chan," He says, giddy, seemingly unfazed by the rude reaction. "But you liked it~ didn't you?"

"_What?_ Why would you say-?"

"You didn't pull away at first~" Another giggle. "You kissed me back~"

"_What? _I didn't-!"

But he could see from the look in Grell's eyes that there was no use arguing.

_Fine. Let him think whatever he wants, I don't care..._

"Just stay here," He finally says. "Don't cause any trouble."

Grell moves in front of the door as Sebastian tries to leave.

"Admit it," He says teasingly.

"I don't have the time for this!"

"You've got plenty of time~..." He giggles again. "Say it and I'll let you through."

"_Grell-_"

"Three little words, Sebas~chan...and then I'll do whatever you say~"

"_Let. Me. Through_."

He sighs playfully, shaking his head.

"Try again~or you could just _show_ me..."

Sebastian felt his lip curl at the proposition. He could always just force him out of the way, but undoubtedly that would get loud and distracting...

"Grell, just _let me out_."

Only that obnoxious giggle again, that defiant challenge in the green eyes. Why didn't he just give in, say the words and get it over with? It was simple enough, and it wasn't as if he had any qualms about lying.

"Cat got your tongue, Sebas~chan...?"

He couldn't help but tsk at the mocking question as Grell cocked his head to one side. Why did the reaper have to smell so sweet...?

"It's very simple, really," The redhead was saying. "Give me what I want, and I'll give you what you want~"

Why had the reddened lip caught his attention? Why did he long to brush the crimson locks out of the emerald eyes and run his fingers through what he was certain would be a silken mass of hair?

Coming in here in the first place had been a very bad idea.

"...You swear that you'll do as I say."

"Of course~if you do what I want."

"...Fine."

Grell let out a squeal as Sebastian obliged; he had expected a hollow and irate repetition of the confession, but the demon had taken him into another kiss. Even more surprising, he was expertly coaxing Grell's mouth open with his tongue, drawing it across the full lower lip, slipping it between them as they parted. At some point, he had slipped his hands into the soft red hair, and the reaper had once again wound himself around him.

There had been no hesitancy in Grell's reaction; he was an expert with his tongue, teasing Sebastian's own as he explored the demon's mouth, running over the miniature fangs, the hard palette just behind his teeth. The demon wasn't aware of his lusty moan as the reaper sucked on the wet muscle learning the dips and curves of his own mouth, gently biting down on it. The sharp teeth left dull but not unpleasant throbs of pain where they had dug into the tender flesh.

The skirt of Grell's dress bunched beneath Sebastian's hand; without breaking the kiss, he lifted it, grinding his hips against the other's and drawing a wanton groan from the reaper. The demon's grip was bruising on his backside, pressing their bodies together as he broke from the other's lips, but left of trail of hot, wet kisses down his neck, to his shoulder.

"S-Sebastian!"

"You said...you'd do what I wanted...didn't you?"

"Y-yes-"

"I want you to let me touch you," He growled into Grell's ear, not waiting for a response as his hand wrapped around the hard redhead, prompting a strangled gasp.

"...Don't go back on your word," He says, laughing darkly into the perfect, ivory ear. "I told you to be careful what you wished for..."

Grell let out a breathless moan as Sebastian began to stroke him, back arching at the sensation. He'd imagined it so many times, but he'd never dreamed it would actually _happen_...but here they were, up against the door of the dressing room...

"Ah-! Oh god-Sebastian...!"

The demon had to give him credit for at least trying to stay quiet, but his efforts weren't enough to be effective. He claimed the soft, pouting lips again, the kiss lustful and heated, the sensual sounds from the redhead muffled as they sent delicious vibrations over his tongue and a pleasant chill down his spine. The little squeals and moans grew more intense as the demon began to squeeze him gently now and then, his motions growing rougher, the kiss more intense. Grell's arms were locked tight around Sebastian's neck, hands running through his ebony locks of hair. He was losing control, his voice growing louder again; he let out a shameless moan as Sebastian stopped, pulling out of the kiss as well.

"If you're going to be so loud..." He was speaking through gasping breaths as he rested his forehead against the redhead's. "...I can't keep going..." A dark chuckle passed his lips. "You don't want to get caught, do you...?"

He let out a whimper at the threat, biting his lip hard.

"Please...!"

"Then be a good boy..."

The green eyes squeezed shut and he let out a hiss as Sebastian continued, clinging again to the demon. His face buried in the other's shoulder, he couldn't help but begin to moan as he was brought closer and closer to the pleasure of his release.

He arched as it finally crashed over him, every nerve washed in the waves of pleasure that overtook his senses. It reminded the demon in some way of the sensation of taking a soul; every muscle in the body he held pulled taut, the muffled sounds, the utter helplessness and vulnerability of the moment. It was tempting, so tempting to do just that...by the time the reaper realized it was more than a kiss, it would be far too late...

But Grell fell limp against him, his face hidden in the demon's shoulder. The impulse passed as he felt the reaper's heart pounding, his chest heaving with his breath.

He couldn't help but tut in mock disapproval.

"Now I have to change my gloves..." Sebastian pulled back, tilting Grell's chin up and licking away the drops of blood that had welled on the redhead's lip, speaking softly into his ear.

"We'll just say that you owe me one."

An affectionate nip to the soft lobe and the demon was gone, seeming to have passed through the door without it ever opening.

Grell fell back against the wall, slowly undoing his hair from the long braids he'd tied them in. After a moment, he couldn't help but giggle to himself, knowing that, no matter how much the demon would deny it later, it was a memory he'd keep.

Sorry it took so long! Stupid six hours classes, I couldn't post it when I wanted to...but it's still Friday! I have met my own deadline!

Anywho. Stop by my profile and you can have a say in who I write about next! There's a poll for what other pairings I should include in my one-shots. Alois and Claude are going to be next week...


	8. SebxGrell: Ten Minutes

There was a familiar glint in the green eyes when they met his, as the lights rose for intermission; that little sparkle that meant he was feeling devious. He had to admit that he was dying to figure out what the reaper had in mind, though he was-as always-just a tad trepidatious.

The slim, black-clad hand closed on his wrist for a fraction of a second-his way of saying 'follow me'-and he stood, making his way out of the theatre and into the lobby. Eager and curious, he obeyed the silent command, following a few paces behind. While he had opted to wear something a bit more subdued than his usual attire-and, to Sebastian's dismay, elected to turn his hair to the brown it had been when they'd first met-he still wore red accents, making him easy to spot in the crowd. He was wearing his usual, scarlet-framed glasses and a large red bow in his hair, as well as his typical boots. Though he couldn't see it now, as Grell's back was to him, the vest he wore was also a muted burgundy-a shade he claimed to like because it matched Sebastian's eyes.

He glances over his shoulder as he slips through a door, emerald eyes glinting in a silent, sultry promise. It took all his self-control not to barrel through the door immediately after him, and instead maintain his pace and calmly walk through the bathroom door.

Almost as soon as it swung closed again, he heard the lock slide; Grell had been standing against the wall of the mercifully empty room, waiting.

_Oh, his hair's red again_-

That was all he had time to think before he was pinned to the wall, the shinigami's soft, hot mouth pressed hard to his, the slender yet strong hands pulling him closer and running through his hair...it didn't take much coaxing for him to begin to react, pulling him even closer, grinding their hips together as his hands gripped the supple flesh of his rear end. Grell let out a wanton moan at the delicious friction between them, eager and desperate for more.

"...Ten minutes," he breathes between hungry kisses. "Think you can do it?"

It was only as he tried to speak that Sebastian realized his breath had turned into ragged pants, his chest heaving with them.

"...I am...one hell of a lover..." He manages with a smirk, all but dragging Grell across the room and shoving him up against the counter. The redhead, eyes half-lidded and dark with lust, was fumbling with his belt and his waistband; impatient, the demon undid them, claiming the reaper's lips with his own again in a darkly passionate kiss. Drawing the dark cloth away from the white skin, he felt the other hiss against his mouth as the icy marble countertop met his flesh.

Breaking the kiss, he took hold of the reaper's shoulders and turned him to face the row of sinks set into the stone, roughly shoving his chest down to bend him over at the waist, and, on an impulse, lashing out to strike the perfect, white rump so beautifully displayed for him.

Grell let out a surprised squeal of pain, jerking forward at the unexpected slap, but the smirk he wore didn't falter.

"So forceful, Sebas~chan...ah!"

Sebastian had pushed one of his legs a bit further away from the other with his knee, almost knocking the reaper off-balance. His hands, usually steadying his lover's hips, were preoccupied with his own waistband. Grell gripped the countertop with another desperate, sexual moan as Sebastian's hands slid up his shapely thighs and once again gripped his arse as he rubbed himself between the two succulent cheeks, one turning an angry red where his hand had struck.

"Oh god...Sebastian...please...!" Grell was begging, his voice a desperate, whimpering moan; in the mirror, the demon could see the longing that clouded the viridian eyes and the crimson droplets of blood beginning to swell on the perpetually pouting lower lip.

"Well...since you asked so _nicely_..."

His grip turned almost bruising and he finally stopped his teasing, aligning their bodies and pressing himself into that glorious tight heat, Grell's passage already slick and stretched from their escapades before leaving.

The delirious moan that wrenched itself from the reaper's lips as he was filled was the ultimate aphrodisiac, igniting a burning lust in the demon that he fought to control; part of him remained mindful of the crowd milling about, separated from them by only so many inches of wood. It was that awareness that stopped him from pounding into the pliant and willing body beneath him with all his strength, making the other man scream for him as he had so many times before. No, this would be quick and controlled, and as he buried himself completely in the velvet warmth and listened to the little sounds that now and then escaped the reaper's clenched teeth, he knew it wouldn't be a problem to finish on time.

His thrusts were rough and relentless, but the other matched him perfectly, making him growl deep in his throat as Grell's body contorted wondrously, bending at impossible angles and creating unfeasible curves, all the while still matching him thrust for thrust. His whimpers and moans where growing harder and harder to stifle as Sebastian continually hit the sweet bundle of nerves that could push him over the edge in moments.

"Oh...! S...Sebastian...so...so close...!"

The demon only grunts a reply, nearing his release as well; yanking a glove off with his teeth, he spits in his hand and palms Grell's neglected cock before beginning to stroke it in time with his thrusts. The reaper threw his head back, wanting to scream but struck dumb by the sheer pleasure of the sensations; it was barely a moment or two later that he came strongly enough to make his ears ring, spilling himself into Sebastian's waiting palm.

The spasming of the sensitive muscles around him pulled the demon over the edge as well; with a snarl muffled by a bite to Grell's shoulder, he released himself deep within the other, falling forward and resting against the trembling reaper as they slowly regained themselves.

Grell lifted his head, eyes still clouded over, face flushed and strands of hair clinging to his cheeks; Sebastian, watching with his head on Grell's shoulder, smiles.

"...You always looks so beautiful..." He murmurs before pulling away. Grell slowly straightens up, only to be turned around by Sebastian's gloved hand, the same one touching his chin. Chuckling softly, the demon presses a sweet kiss to his lips.

"Get cleaned up. I'll meet you back in the theater."

A butterfly kiss to the tip of his nose, then he was focused on washing his hands; Grell shuffles into one of the stalls to get 'cleaned up.'

A few moments later, as the lights were flickering and beginning to lower, he slipped back into his seat beside Sebastian; the demon looked perfect as ever, not a single indication of the incident in the bathroom apparent in his nature or his appearance.

He as well had erased all signs of their adventure, toning the redness in his cheeks down with his foundation, running a brush through his hair, leeching the red from it and tying it back again, straightening his clothes. To look at the two of them, no one would ever guess what had transpired between them.

As the lights fell completely and the room was lit only by the stage, a white-gloved hand stole over to wrap around a slim one, sheathed in black.


	9. SebxGrell: An IllFated Kiss

"Please, Grell. I need you to do this for me."

The reaper stared in shock, unable to comprehend what was being asked of him; what he had foolishly agreed to before knowing exactly what he would have to do.

"But-but Sebastian...!"

How could he ask such a thing of him? Knowing how he felt-knowing everything he did-how could he ask-_demand_-such a thing?

"You said it yourself," The demon says, his words soft but quick. "We don't have the time to debate it-Grell, you swore you would do this."

"You didn't tell me what it was I was swearing to...!" He was whining now, acting petulant and childish, but he didn't care. There was no feasible way he could ever do what Sebastian wanted.

"I'll give you something in return." He lifted a hand and gently touched the reaper's cheek. "...How about the kiss you've always wanted...?"

Grell blinks twice in rapid succession; to offer _that_? He had never expected that to come into play. He wanted very badly indeed for Grell to fulfill his side of the bargain.

The reaper bit his lip, unconsciously turning his face into Sebastian's hand, a tear leaking from one brilliantly green eye.

"You said it yourself, Grell..." Sebastian murmurs, kissing away the tear; The reaper gasps softly, but Sebastian continues. "...I don't expect you to follow. But please. Do this for me."

How could he deny him...? But how could he oblige...?

"_Well~what on earth are the two of you doing hanging around _here~_?"_

_The little brat had looked at him with bored, dismissive eyes, but he wasn't interested in the boy. No, his attention-as always-was focused on his butler._

"_I wasn't sure I'd be able to find you again~" He was pouting as he spoke, pressing close to Sebastian, as he always did. "But true love will never lead you astray~!"_

_The demon said nothing, looking to his master. The boy was smirking-something about his demeanor catches Grell's attention. Hadn't his eyes been blue...? And..._

"_...A demon...?"_

_The red flashed to the virulent glow as the boy's smirk grew wider._

"_Sebastian."_

"_Yes, my lord."_

"_Take care of this nuisance."_

"_...Yes, my lord."_

_Grell sniffs, pulling away._

"_And I don't even get a hello? How rude of you, Sebas~chan...!"_

_Still, the demon said nothing, only gazing at him with steady, impassive eyes._

"_...Sebastian...?"_

_The boy laughs._

"_What's wrong, Sebastian? Cat got your tongue?"_

_There was no visible change in his expression, save for his eyes closing for a moment. The boy laughs again. Grell looks between the two; Sebastian meets his gaze as the boy was still lost in his twisted mirth..._

_The red eyes held his for a long moment, then flicked to his master and back. There was a subtle pleading behind them that was so unlike his usual demeanor..._

_Ciel was calming; the red eyes grew impassive again._

"_...Sebastian..."_

_The demon looked to his master, the boy suddenly composed and demanding._

"_You heard me," The boy says. "Get. Rid. Of him. _Now_."_

"_...Yes, my lord."_

_Cracking his knuckles, he took a step forward, met the green gaze for a moment, the plea behind his eyes again._

_Grell could barely dodge as he lunged, trying desperately to understand what Sebastian was trying to convey, at a loss for why he could say nothing other than the three words he'd already repeated._

_His distraction resulted in much more damage dealt by Sebastian's hand than usual, and after a long while he still had yet to make a single attack. The pleading in Sebastian's eyes had changed to frustration; his lip was pulled back in a sneer, and his actions were growing sloppy. It didn't stop him, however, from managing to grab hold of the reaper's scythe and flinging it away._

"_Oi-!" The brat cried out as he dodged the flying object. "Be more careful, you idiot!"_

_The red eyes were burning into the green as he growled his response._

"...Yes...my lord..._"_

_Grell leaps away, knowing he stood no chance without his weapon-even with it, he hadn't faired well today...it had skittered across the ground and was resting behind the boy._

_Sebastian was inches behind as he grabbed it again-but as he whirled to try and parry a blow, the demon didn't attack at all; he took the reaper's wrists, guiding them in an arc that brought the heavy casing of the chainsaw in direct contact with the boy's head, striking before he could turn to watch again._

_As the small body crumpled, unconscious, Sebastian dragged him away, the scenery flashing by...finally, he stopped. Grell pulls away, trying to compose himself._

"_I'm sorry. I can't speak in front of him."_

_Grell looks up at Sebastian's voice, surprised._

"_What-?"_

"'_Yes, my lord'," he spits. "The three words I'm allowed to say in his presence. I don't have the time to explain. Grell, I need a favor."_

_He'd used only his first name, and he was asking a favor? Grell felt the blush creeping into his cheeks._

"_...What...?"_

"_Will you do it?"_

"_What do you need me to-?"_

"_Yes or no, Grell. Will you do it?"_

"_...Yes...?"_

"_Do you swear to it? I can't have you backing out. I may not get this chance-no, I _will_ not get this chance again."_

"_I-I swear-Sebastian-?"_

"_Thank you..."_

"_...What do you need me to do...?"_

_He meets the reaper's gaze, his own steady and resigned._

"_...I need you to kill me."_

_The words didn't register. He shakes his head, as if doing so would toss the words around into a sensible order._

"_..._What?_"_

"_You heard me, Grell. You swore! Now please-I don't know how long he'll be unconscious, he won't tolerate me losing to you otherwise-"_

"_I can't-! How could you-? I can't-!" _

"_Please, Grell. I need you to do this for me."_

"You...don't expect me to follow...?"

"The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet, isn't that what you said? The star-crossed lovers are fated to die in the end, aren't they?" He passes his thumb over the high cheekbone. "Don't mourn so for Romeo...Juliet."

The tears begin in earnest as he says the words.

"Why...?"

"Because I can't stand to be near that damned brat any longer, and there's no other way. You _can_ do it, can't you?"

He couldn't lie to him, as much as he wanted to.

"...Yes...I...I can..."

"You must. You can't go back on your word."

"...I won't..."

"Then..." A small, sad smile plays across the demon's lips. "What was it you said? 'Let us part with a passionate kiss'...?"

True to his word, the demon pressed his lips tenderly to the reaper's; it was the touch he always wanted, yes, but that made it even worse; had it just been an emotionless touch of the lips, it would have made his task more bearable, but-false or true-there was affection behind this, an intimacy as the soft tongue ran over his lip and made its careful way between his teeth, gently exploring the dips and curves of his mouth...he couldn't help himself from returning the kiss, flinging his arms around the demon's neck, some irrational part of his brain telling him that this might convince him to change his mind...

After a bittersweet eternity, Sebastian gently pulls away, letting a hand trail through the silken locks of red hair.

"...Now...please..."

Blinking back tears, Grell picks up his scythe again.

"...Please, Sebastian..."

The demon shakes his head.

"You swore to me, Grell."

Biting his lip, hoping the pain there would distract him from the pain in his heart, he lunges and swings at the demon, who makes no move to dodge.

An arc of blood; the clean white of Sebastian's shirt blossoms with red as his memories spill out of the wound. A small, serene smile was on his lips as he watched them play out.

"A thousand...no, ten thousand times...farewell..." He breathes as Grell swings again; the words almost made him falter, making Sebastian jerk with a cry as the blade cut his skin again; but then the last strand was severed and he fell soundlessly to the ground.

A whimper fell from the reaper's lips as he inched slowly closer, gently arranging the demon's limbs in a more noble position and resting his head on his lap. The red eyes were blank and dull, but the smile was still on his lips.

"...The star-crossed lovers...yes, their passion ill-fated..." He brushes a lock of black hair off the cooling cheek. "...Juliet...driven mad with grief...at the sight of Romeo..."

"..._astian!"_

He looks up; the brat was on his way to finding them, most likely furious that his butler wasn't answering his call...

His hands play over the demon's chest, slipping into the coat...he withdraws it when he finds what he wants; one of knives he used as a weapon.

"...O, happy dagger...this is thy sheathe..." He runs a finger along the blade, taking the handle in both hands as he rested the tip against his chest. "There rust...and let me...die..."

A strangled noise escapes his lips, a trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth.

"...Ten...thousand...times...farewell..."


	10. Secret

Okay, I usually hate song fics. I don't know why. They bother me a bit. But I had to write this one. There's an exception to every rule, right?

I owe the italics to The Pierces. It's their song, Secret.

Mild, mild, mild AngelinaxGrell. If you squint and tilt your head to the side.

}~*~*~*~*~*~{

_Got a secret, can you keep it? _

_ Swear this one, you'll save._

_ Better lock it in your pocket, _

_ Taking this one to the grave. _

_ If I show you, then I know you _

_ Won't tell what I've said... _

_ Because two can keep a secret _

_ If one of them is dead._

He walked along the darkened streets, humming to himself. He loved nights like this, moonless, foggy nights. They suited his purpose exceptionally well.

What was this one's name? He didn't remember or care. He knew where to find her, and that was all he needed.

He turned down an alley, unnoticed by the other people on the streets. He blended in perfectly, a nondescript brunette. The most memorable things about him were his brilliantly green eyes, behind the circular glasses in black wire frames; his eyes, and perhaps the length of his hair.

Ah, there she was, walking down the road, her face painted so thickly it disgusted him. She was, thankfully, alone, and near an alley...oh, how wonderfully perfect it all was. He continued humming to himself as he moved closer.

_Why do you smile _

_Like you've been told a secret?_

_Now you're telling lies,_

_Because you have sworn to keep it, _

_But no one keeps a secret._

_No one keeps a secret..._

She caught sight of him, approaching her easily and smiling. She turned away from her door, smiling in a way she no doubt considered alluring.

"A bit late, isn't it, sir...? But I don't mind if you don't..."

"That's good to hear..."

He slipped into the alley, and she followed easily.

"Just something quick for the gentleman, then...?"

He smiled more widely, fondling the handle of the scalpel hidden in his sleeve.

"And you don't even want to know my name?"

"Well, if you want to tell me, I won't mind."

"You should be more careful, my dear...I think you know my name..."

"Do I?"

"So did the others...it's Jack, my darling..."

The small silver blade glinted in the dim light at the head of the alley, and the whore's face twisted into an expression of fear and horror. Oh, how he loved these moments...

_Why when we do _

_Our darkest deeds do we tell?_

_They burn in our brains,_

_Become a living hell _

_Because everybody tells._

_Everybody tells..._

If there was ever a soul to tell, it would be one about to be snuffed out. Yes, take let them take the secret to their premature graves, and he would take his trophy back to his beloved. The red, the warm, thick red stained the miserable woman's clothing, stained the street, stained his hands, but that wasn't a problem. It was too easy to travel without being seen.

Into the bag went the trophy they claimed from all their victims. It hadn't taken him long to learn what strokes to make where to retrieve it with the utmost precision. Another useless, boring woman taken care of.

_Look into my eyes_

_Now you're getting sleepy_

_Are you hypnotized_

_By the secrets that you're keeping? _

_I know what you're keeping_

_I know what you're keeping..._

"Grell?"

Oh, dear. He'd only just returned; it would be dreadfully improper to present such an appearance to the madam.

"Just a moment, if I may be so bold..."

There was a note of sick excitement in the woman's voice.

"You did it, then?"

Damn his appearance. He opened the door, still half-drenched in blood. He'd been working on getting it out of his hair. Now matter how he tied it back, it always seemed to get in the way.

"Do I ever fail to follow orders?"

He gestured to the bag resting on the floor with a wide, toothy grin as he returned to cleaning the locks of his hair.

"Not the ones that matter," She chided playfully, picking the sack up with two fingers. Half of it was also soaked in blood, but he'd at least put it down on a shirt that had been ruined during a similar task. "...If that smile was the last thing she saw, I'm sure she was terrified..."

He laughed darkly, finally giving up on his hair for the moment and washing his face.

"She deserved it, the same as the rest of them..."

"And I was in the office...how on earth could I have done it...?" She laughed as well, wrapping her arms around his chest and resting her head on his back. "Another patient will be coming in tomorrow..."

"Oh...?" He turned, taking her chin in his hand. "Another ungrateful excuse for a woman?"

"You wouldn't mind, would you?"

His grin only widened.

"You know I'd paint all of London red for you, Madame..."

_Swore you'd never tell,_

_You swore you'd never tell._

_You swore you'd never tell,_

_You swore you'd never tell..._

He rather adored going out during the night, silent as the grave and intent on putting someone in theirs. It was lovely to watch the lovely, lovely red arc from wounds, staining everything with its rich, full color. Red could not be tainted or created by any other means...it was simple, visceral, and needed to explanation. Red, without a doubt, caught attention. And he walked the streets, eager to draw the color from his intended, crooning to himself softly. Hell if anyone thought him mad.

_Got a secret, can you keep it? _

_Swear this one, you'll save._

_Better lock it in your pocket, _

_Taking this one to the grave. _

_If I show you, then I know you _

_Won't tell what I've said... _

_Because two can keep a secret _

_If one of us is dead..._


	11. GrellxWill: Valentine's Day

Because he is generally a prick in Red and Black, there's been a lot of Will-hate from my readers lately, so here's some fluffy (belated) Valentine's Day stuff for you! GrellxWill cutesies, but you gotta stick it out to the end.

}~*~*~*~*~*~{

"Oh, Will~iam~!"

He bit back a groan as the redheaded reaper bounded into his office. Today he also brought with him the thick, cloying scent of roses.

"...Yes, Grell..."

"I brought you something~"

"Did you..."

"Mmhmm! The only thing in the world that I _know_ makes you happy~!"

Despite what he knew were most likely Grell's best efforts, he had to doubt that he had brought anything that would make him remotely happy. He was anticipating some ridiculous profession of love-more ridiculous than usual, anyway-accompanied by either a box of chocolates that he had no interest in, some sort of plush animal that would only clutter up his office or living space, or an enormous bouquet of flowers that he was allergic to. Or quite possibly all three.

What Grell actually dropped onto his desk was a stack of papers. After staring at them for a moment, he looked up to the strangely silent man.

"...And this is...?"

"All the paperwork I owe you, complete with the proper forms for the late work..."

For what was arguably the first time, William was impressed with Grell's work. Glancing through the rather hefty pile, he noticed that everything even seemed to be filled out flawlessly.

"...What on earth, may I ask, brought this about?"

"Well...I wanted to ask you something."

Ah. There was the catch.

"And that would be...?"

"Well~" Grell's usual personality began to take over again. "There's a party tonight...and I was just wondering-"

"No."

He all but watched Grell deflate.

"But-!" The redheaded reaper leaned across his desk, pouting. "It's Valentine's Day...a day for romance and love~you won't come with me...?"

"If it's a night of what you claim are your favorite things, why not go on your own and find someone there?"

"Well, no one's going to show up without a date..." Grell's voice dropped as he continued. "And...I wanted to go with you."

There was a rare earnestness and sincerity in the soft and somewhat timid voice. William could only sigh.

"I have better things to do than waste my time on such frivolities."

"Can't you just let yourself have some fun? Just _one_ night of the year?"

"With the backlog you've accrued on your fieldwork, I should forbid you from going as well."

"For a smart man, you're awfully thick sometimes. Could I have filled out the paperwork without getting everything else done~?"

He began to rubs his temples, getting a headache as Grell shot down his excuses one by one.

"Mr. Sutcliff, why can't you be this productive on any given day? It would make both of our lives that much easier..."

The grin that spread on Grell's face was looking increasingly forced.

"Well then, nothing would be interesting, would it?"

"Everything would run smoothly as a well-oiled machine, like it should. Please tell me why you are the gear that insists on getting stuck."

"Ouch..." Stung more than he cared to admit by the remark, Grell straightened up and took a step back toward the door. "Well, then...tell me if you change your mind..."

"_Sutcliff..._"

"Just on the off-chance...!" Grell paused, looking back over his shoulder. A surprising amount of guilt washed over William as he saw the genuine sadness in the man's brilliantly green eyes.

"Please, Will...just think about it."

He vanished in his usual flash of scarlet, leaving the scent of roses lingering in the room. It was all William could do not to slam his head repeatedly on his desk and try to reassure himself that turning him down-yet again-wasn't something to be ashamed of.

Only much later that night, when everyone was assumedly at the party Grell had mentioned, did Will step out of his office, intending to finally get some sleep. Walking the silent and darkened hallways, his attention was caught by light spilling from a room. After a short moment, he realized it was none other than the office of his enamored subordinate.

The pieces of the puzzle didn't quite fit; if Grell had wanted so badly to go, he would have found someone else to go with, or even shown up alone. He'd never had much of an issue with making a scene.

Despite himself, he walked down the hallway and peered through the door.

Grell was slumped over his desk; a pen was loosely held in one hand. It looked as if he'd fallen asleep right in the middle of something. The red coat he usually wore hung over the back of the chair, as if he'd shrugged it off after some time working; his hair was held away from his face in a black silk ribbon, the thick strands cascading towards the floor off one shoulder. There was a smudge of ink on his cheek as well, and William blinked as part of his mind registered the scene as 'adorable.'

He glanced around the room for some means of waking him-he didn't trust Grell's eccentricities enough to risk shaking him, fearing a nasty bite from those teeth of his-and was surprised to find it almost void of what he had assumed would be lavish decorations for the holiday. Red was everywhere, to be certain, but no kitschy paraphernalia.

His attention was focused again as Grell shifted with a soft sound. The pen fell from his hand as he crossed his arms and rested his head on them, and William could see what he had been writing more clearly. It was in a small, red leather book, appearing to be a journal of some sort-certainly nothing official.

He hesitated to read it. If indeed it were some sort of diary, Grell would certainly not appreciate the intrusion upon his privacy; for someone who seemed so open about...well, everything, William had never guessed he would even consider keeping some sort of journal.

But on the other hand, he was so deeply asleep he wasn't even breathing...

He shifted slightly, standing behind the desk to get a clearer view.

_As predicted, another let down. I'm writing about this hours later...it shouldn't bother me enough to still sting even now, but it does._

_How does he manage to make very question and comment so backhanded? 'Why are you the one gear that insists on getting stuck'...because it's the only way I know to get even a little attention from you. I'll settle for negative, as positive was never an option._

_I'm tearing this page out later and burning it. Sooner or later he'll find this and make an excuse to confiscate it. I'd have to tear out almost everything if I didn't wan_

The handwriting trailed off, Grell having apparently fallen asleep at that point, but the short passage forced William to think. How long had they been working together? To him, time seemed to fly by, and there was never enough to get the work done-but for Grell, he knew it seemed to eke along at a snail-like pace. It had to have been at least a century since they had taken the exam together and been designated to their duties...in all likeliness, it had been much more time than that.

And he'd been rejecting the poor redhead from the very beginning. Amazingly, he had yet to give up. The straightforward and heartless path part of his mind took said that the idiot was just thick-headed and was bringing everything on himself by refusing to accept the truth; a slightly more sympathetic facet wondered when it had turned from a legitimate lack of desire to just habit. Surely, Grell was not so distasteful that he had to deny him a single night of kind-heartedness.

_Give him an inch, he'll want the mile,_ the heartlessness argued again. _Let him have that night and you'll never hear the end of it._

Was that strictly true? There really was only one way to find out.

Will gently laid a hand on Grell's shoulder and gave him a shake, trying to draw him out of sleep. He was reluctant to wake, only shifting and burying his face further in his arms.

He gave another, slightly rougher shake, and was about to change his mind and give up when Grell finally lifted his head, blinking owlishly at the light in the room.

"How long have you been asleep?"

He looked up at the familiar voice and didn't seem to believe what he was seeing.

"Will-? Where am I-? What..."

As Grell buried his face in his hands, William couldn't help but smile.

"You fell asleep as your desk. Writing something, by the looks of it; you've got ink on your cheek."

The ink didn't seem to both him all that much, but his head shot up and he scrambled with the items on his desk, finally finding and slamming closed the journal. He tucked it hastily into a pocket and brushed a few stray hairs out of his face.

"I-I...I didn't sleep much in the past week...I was...getting all that work done..." A bitterness crept into his tone. "...Guess it finally caught up to me."

With that, he stood and picked up his coat, heading toward the door.

"Where are you going?"

Grell paused.

"If I'm going to sleep, it might as well be in my own bed...besides, I've spent the last week sleeping at my desk like that, and my back is not happy about it."

As if to illustrate this, he stretched, popping most of the vertebrae in his spine. With a heavy sigh he relaxed again, turning towards the door.

"Goodnight."

Will was in shock. Grell, leaving so casually and acting so...normally?

"What happened to going to that party tonight?" He asked, following the redhead out into the hallway, pausing to turn off the light ad shut the door. Ahead of him, Grell didn't stop moving and only shrugged.

"Pointless to show up now. By the time I got ready, it would be winding down."

"You seemed so excited this morning."

Another shrug.

"Things change."

"Grell, is something wrong?"

He finally stopped and turned.

"Why do you ask that?"

"You're not acting like yourself."

Yet another shrug.

"How do you want me to act? I'm exhausted. If I didn't know you'd deny it, I'd request a personal day so I could catch up on sleep."

While the snipe wasn't exactly a zinger, it was the harshest thing Grell had ever said to him. William looked positively taken aback by it.

"By all means...you can have the day tomorrow..."

"...Thank you."

They stood there for a moment in thick silence. Eventually, Grell shifted again with a heavy sigh.

"I'm going to bed. I'll see you."

As he turned to leave again, William couldn't help himself.

"What-no request for me to join you? No final attempt to get me to agree to do something together? Nothing?"

Grell's shoulders sagged distinctly as he paused again. He didn't bother looking back this time as he spoke.

"...You made your point, Will. You must have known it would stick some day."

All the bitterness and sadness in the world made up those words, and they crashed heavily on William's ears despite the low volume at which they had been spoken.

"...Goodnight."

The sound of Grell's shoes as he walked away echoed loudly in the otherwise empty corridor. He watched as the vague silhouette pulled the heavy mass of hair over his shoulder and began to braid it, something he usually only did when upset or nervous. Needless to say, it was a rare occurrence, and much to his own surprise, Will felt a twinge in his chest as the normally confident and now forlorn figure made its way down the hall.

He easily caught up with the other and took his arm. Grell didn't fight. His only reaction was to cease moving entirely.

"...What if I changed my mind, Grell."

"I wouldn't believe you."

"What would I have to do to convince you?"

"To take back decades of the same response?" Grell gently tugged his arm from Will's grasp. "An awful lot, I would think."

"By my standards or yours?"

He could feel Grell getting aggravated at the conversation.

"What difference does it make? I knew you were cold-hearted, William, but this is just _cruel-_"

He was silenced abruptly as William's hands slipped into his hair and his superior's lips met his own. Grell's mouth was soft and warm, a tantalizingly full pout. William couldn't help but suck lightly on Grell's lower lip before pulling away.

"Did that help at all?"

He could see the struggle in Grell's eyes between giving in and staying angry.

"I-is this your idea of a joke-?"

"I'm not that cruel," He replied smoothly.

"But-"

"It's amazing how, when we get into habits, we don't consider how things may have changed," He said, nipping lightly at Grell's lip again. "Even such things as our own emotions."

The sudden change was almost too much for Grell. Just this morning, Will had finally and truly broken his heart...and now here he was, teasing him with impossibly light kisses and a slowly wandering touch.

"I d-don't understand..."

Will could only smile.

"I suppose what I mean to say is that...I got so used to saying 'no', I never considered what the alternative was." His arms wrapped around Grell's waist and pulled him closer, their bodies flush against each other's. "You are, by the way, quite adorable when you're asleep..."

A blush crept into Grell's cheeks, and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around William's neck.

"Should I consider this a one-night thing...?"

William couldn't help but smile.

"We'll see in the morning."

Grell finally smiled, and William pressed their lips together again. The smaller man was all too eager to respond this time, coaxing William's skilled lips open to tease with his tongue. Before long, the two were pressed up against a wall, a sweet passion shared between them. Eventually, the kiss broke and Grell rested his head on William's chest.

"Maybe we shouldn't stay in the hallway..."

William had to laugh at Grell's breathless comment, and had to agree.

"Then let's move..."

He took Grell's hand and led him down the hallway. Grell happily followed.

"Oh, Grell?"

"Hm-?"

William planted a kiss on the tip of the other man's nose.

"Happy Valentine's Day."


	12. GrellxWill: Torn

Okay. This one's pretty sad, not gonna lie. If you've read my story Red and Black, you know my characterization of Grell.

This story takes that and pushes it a few steps further.

Now, the two have nothing to do with each other. This is a Grell x Will ficlet...you can't really call it fluff, as it's not really light-hearted in anyway...it briefly explores the bittersweet romance between one struggling with identity and the other struggling to do anything he can to keep the other sane.

Oh...and for some ungodly reason, I don't use names. I'm not sure why I do that sometimes. -_- I tried to make it clear who was who.

}~X~X~X~X~X~{

It was with a heavy sigh that he sat down in front of the mirror at the end of the day, staring at his reflection, and thinking, once again, about how much he loathed it.

He took up the damp cloth he'd brought from the bathroom and began wiping away the layers of makeup coating his face. As they were washed away, the personality he adopted to face his peers fell away as well. The ridiculous teeth shrank to normal proportion and shape, and the vibrantly scarlet hair faded to auburn. Almost as an afterthought, any red tint to it faded, leaving it a chestnut brown. Mildly disgusted, he peeled off the fake eyelashes and wiped the shadow and heavy liner from his eyes, the rouge from his cheeks, the color from his lips. The insane light behind his eyes faded and died; his cheeks even hollowed slightly, and the maniacal grin he forced himself to wear reversed into a shallow, pouting frown. He swapped the red-framed glasses-the chain embellished with _skulls,_ of all things-for a simple, black, wire-framed pair with a much plainer chain.

The man now staring back out at him from the mirror looked completely different from the one who had sat there moments ago. Without watching the transformation, no one would possibly know the two were the same person. The smug, flamboyant, and hyper-extroverted personality had withdrawn, leaving a timid and self-conscious waif behind. Self-doubt pervaded every inch of the one looking at him now. And yet, he despised this reflection just as much as the previous one.

He shed the red coat he was wearing. Normally it was the first thing to go, but he'd forgotten about it in his distress that day.

_Would any of them guess how much I can't _stand_ that damned color...?_

The coat, the glasses, the bright crimson spats-they were all locked away in a trunk until he would have to face them again the following day and once again don the distasteful guise.

Was the redhead the disguise? He found himself wondering, turning the paradox over in his mind. Did he loathe his true self so deeply that he had convinced himself that this brunette who could do nothing-_was_ nothing-was who he truly was? Which one was the mask? He couldn't remember anymore. The only thing he was certain of was that this never should have happened to him. He was ill-suited to his job, and was wasting away with the centuries as he lost himself more and more in the tangle of face and façade.

The gem-like, emerald eyes that peered back at him as he observed himself were dull and empty. Despite that, they were the one thing in his reflection he felt the slightest bit of pride for. The exact opposite of his 'favorite' color, cool and deep, they were the only thing that didn't change from persona to persona. Some sense of self remained in that constant, in his green eyes.

A hand rose to skim over the features he could do nothing to change: the narrow nose, the weak chin, the feminine cheekbones, the angled jaw. Confusion over his features and his mismatched gender pervaded both personalities; desire manifested in the redhead's occasional habit of dressing in women's clothes. The brunette was ashamed to even think of the taboo the other so readily broke.

The personalities clashed within him for a moment; for the most part, the outgoing mask merely augmented and acted upon the introvert's desires, but when their thoughts contradicted each other, the result was often unpleasant to consider. The redhead rarely did, so absorbed in his own desires that the timid personality never came to mind, but the overbearing persona often tried to encroach on the weaker one. Clutching his head and trying in vain to fight off the headache that was coming, he stumbled to the bed and fell heavily into it, curling up tightly in the center.

Some time later, he vaguely heard the door open. There was a pause as the newcomer took of their shoes, padding over to the bed in sock feet to avoid making noise and further aggravating the thin man's aching head.

"Bad day?"

The soft voice was familiar and soothing, as was the gentle hand stroking his hair. He only nodded, shifting closer to the figure that had perched on the edge of the bed.

"I'm right here."

The hand paused, resting lightly on the crown of his head as the man leaned to press a kiss to his reddened cheek. Tears were welling in the tightly shut eyes of the man curled up on the bed, and the elder gently wiped them away. He sighed quietly to himself, running a hand through his own hair, mussing the ruler-straight part he usually combed it into.

"I'm sorry..." Came the thin, quavering voice. He resumed stroking the other's soft hair, gently pulling it away from his face.

"Don't apologize." His fingers traced the elegant slope of his jaw for a moment. "There's no reason to."

"No matter what, all I can do is cause trouble for you..." He murmured miserably. The hand took up stroking his hair again and he sighed as the headache finally began to abate.

"You don't cause me any trouble."

It wasn't strictly a lie; this timid persona wasn't the one the wreaked havoc. He dearly loved the man and all his imperfections, but sometimes the duality that was slowly tearing him apart was a bit much to handle.

The brunette knew exactly what he meant by the statement and only sighed, curling up tighter.

"Why don't we just go to sleep..." The darker-haired man suggested softly. "You'll feel better in the morning."

It was all a ritual. They both knew that the hours would do nothing to improve the situation. However, at least in sleep, the slim, troubled man looked truly relaxed, and at times content. He slowly uncurled and fitted himself comfortably against the taller man, closing his eyes as his companion's arms wrapped slowly around him.

"I love you," The elder whispered softly. The brunette answered in a soft voice, something that could have either been 'I love you' or 'thank you.'

He buried his face in the silken, umber hair and settled himself comfortably, holding the smaller man more tightly for a moment. His sigh was at least more content than upset as he shifted slightly, and slowly drifted into sleep's merciful arms.

He lay awake longer, watching the subtle changes in the younger man's expression as his dreams progressed. How badly he wanted to be selfish, to be able to show his own pain and weakness, cut to the core as he watched the other being slowly torn apart.

But one of them had to remain resolute, to provide something for the other to hold on to. And he had no right to take that comfort away from the man that needed it so desperately.


	13. Song Parody: Slide

So I adore Amanda Palmer in every way, shape, and form, and as you can probably tell I'm pretty obsessed with Kuro at the moment. I also love writing parodies and playing piano!

So if you take all of those and a night without sleep and roll them all together, this is what you get: a set of lyrics to a creepy song that follows the basic plot of the Kuro season 1 anime, set to the wonderfully depressing tune of the song 'Slide,' by the Dresden Dolls.

Maybe someday if i get a decent mic and actually manage to hit the freakin ridiculous low notes she does i'll make a recording of this version and chuck it somewhere into the internet.

}~X~X~X~X~X~{

A dark eerie night

And it's stormy outside

And a blue little boy's

Up for a sacrifice

And a demon in black who is watching

Wants to help him, for a price

As the little boy struggles,

The demon just chuckles

Feathers float down from the sky

And he tells the boy that he can

Stop all the pain

If he'll slake his appetite

So the boy takes the deal

And the demon just smiles

As the boy's tainted soul

Grows unclean-er

But the boy is unfazed

His desires have not changed

Vengeance he'll have though his soul

Will not be saved

Heaven he'll forsake

To have his own way...

A contract laid out

For a deal so unholy

Revenge for the boy

For the demon, his soul, is

The bargain...

The bargain...

The bargain.

How

Could you blame him?

Such a poor kid-

So defenseless

To

Want to hurt him

And to brand him-

They deserved it

As the demon draws near, he

Explains how to seal it

The contract is painful

The boy doesn't feel it

The feathers still floated

The demon they coated

But slowly he loses his cloak...

A name for the demon

A role to conceal him

Sebastian Michaelis

Has come into being

The little boy's servant

The mark to ensure it-an

Eye for a wish granted...

It's...granted

It's granted.

'I'm only...a butler

I'm only...a butler

I'm only...a butler

I'm only...a butler

_One hell of a butler...!'_

A dark eerie night

As all London's aflame

There's a blue little boy

With death calling his name

As Sebastian Michaelis is waiting

For the soul that he has claimed...


	14. Rain

Rain. He hated rain. As a man who spent much time in London, he found there was little he despised more than the cold, relentless sheets of water that poured nearly constantly down on the city. He was soaked through, and only half done with his work. It was going to be a long night.

He cursed quietly to himself at the thought of another ruined set of clothes, and while temperature didn't affect him as strongly as it did those he tended, it was still bitterly cold.

His feet splashed through puddles as he wandered. It was unlike him to shirk duties. It was very unlike him to contemplate returning to his warm, dry room without completing his work. And it was most unlike him to miss the loud, largely ineffective companion he usually worked with. But tonight, the red hair and crimson jacket would have offered a spark of color to the dreary and depressing landscape, and Grell would have clung to him, offering warmth as much as he sough it.

William trudged along miserably. He had even lost the desire to reprimand the red reaper for blowing off work to spend time with his new object of affection. Grell rarely did work anyway. It was almost customary that William did it for him. The only reason Grell hadn't been dismissed long ago was because when he did do his job-which was just often enough that he remained an asset-he did it very well.

The cold air and freezing rain had chilled him to the bone. How he longed to take a hot shower and prop his feet up by the fire, with a steaming cup of tea and good book. Anything to distract him from his misery.

Alas, that was a long way off, and would get no closer if he didn't force himself to work.

Seeking refuge under the awning of a shop, he opened the binder he carried and found the next name on his list. Summoning what little was left of his energy and will, he found his target. An impulsive thought crossed his mind.

_Why not. For just one night. What does it matter? In the end, it makes no difference._

He walked away moments later, numb as ever, but the misery had receded ever so slightly. Maybe Grell had a point in his actions. He couldn't make it a habit, no. But an occasional indulgence would be just fine. To perform perfectly and neatly every time was so boring...but to watch arcing crimson splatter on a white wall, see it stain a plan wooden floor with its deep color...it eased the ache a bit.

Perhaps impulse was not always something to be quashed under logic. Perhaps, every now and then, it could be something beautiful.

There was something more lively in his step as he headed off for his next assignment.

}~X~X~X~X~X~{

Sorry for all the depressing stuff lately. Having a hard time adjusting to my ever-shifting and diminishing group of friends.


	15. Rain II

Rain, part two, following (this will be a revolutionary concept) Rain, part one! Why is William so lonely and forlorn on rainy nights?

Because I like to torture him, that's why. I'm a sadist when it comes to writing. No one can ever get a moment's peace in my plots...

Read on to find out what the poor man's misfortune is.

}~X~X~X~X~X~{

The heels of Grell's boots clicked loudly as he splashed through puddles and wound his way through the soaked streets of London. Ordinarily, such weather left him pouting and mildly off-put, but tonight he hummed a merry tune to himself, indulging every now and then in the childish pleasure of purposefully stomping in a puddle.

For perhaps the first time, when he'd gone to see the latest object of his affection, he hadn't been met with an attack or harsh words. Sebastian had been quite pleasant, actually, if his normal actions were the standard.

As such, even the rain couldn't put a damper on his perpetually bright spirits. Yes, he probably should have been doing his work, but in such a bright and giggly mood, how could they expect him to focus on something that had become so mundane?

_But_...He thought, turning a corner by swinging on the lamppost, _I suppose a little bit of red won't make my evening worse~!_

Allowing his momentum to take him into a doorframe set into a building, he flipped through his book and found the first name on his list to take care of. Humming again, he skipped off to find his victim.

He was finally done with his own work. Now just to complete Grell's, and he could go home...

He paused, debating going now. It gave him an excuse to chew Grell out in the office...

He weighed the paperwork that would need to be done against what he would get out of punishing Grell. The winner was clear, and he trudged off to the other reaper's work. Maybe if he was in the mood tomorrow, Grell would get his 'stern talking to' anyway.

Grell paused as he approached the area where the dying mortal was. In the middle of a park, in freezing weather, _with_ rain, he would die almost certainly of hypothermia. Maybe hypothermia in conjunction with an illness, if he had one. Nothing spectacular or out of the ordinary, just a quiet, routine, body being forced to wind down. He sighed, but even that was almost a cheery sound as he fairly danced across the soaked and muddy ground.

He was stopped as he saw someone else approaching the body lying prone on the ground. He knew the silhouette well, and for a moment, he felt quite guilty for forcing Will to stay out beyond his normal, extensive hours.

"Will~iam~! You don't have to take care of...him..."

His superior turned to face him, and Grell's sentence died on his lips. Quite unusually, William's hair was mussed, his glasses hung slightly askew on his nose, and his normally crisp and spotless suit was stained red.

The most disconcerting difference from the norm, however, was that he was smiling.

"W...William...?"

"There you are, Sutcliff..."

Instead of the infuriated hiss he would have expected, the other reaper's voice was fairly neutral.

"You're...covered in blood, William..."

"Yes." The adjusted the off-kilter angle of his glasses, a familiar motion that seemed alien now. "It seems I've let my work get a bit sloppy today."

"Are you...feeling all right?"

The smile widened the tiniest bit.

"Better than ever." His scythe lanced out and struck the unconscious figure at their feet, prompting the flow of memories and blood. Grell could only watch; Will didn't usually cut deeply enough to cause so much bleeding. He knelt as he watched the Record play out, a finger idly smearing the blood on the ground.

He clipped the filmstrip and made his judgment, then stood and smoothed back his hair with his bloodied hand, focusing on Grell.

"You went to go see that demon again."

"I-well-yes. I did..."

Grell was uncharacteristically flustered; but then again Will was...uncharacteristic entirely. The redhead shifted his weight uneasily, waiting for Will to reprimand him as usual.

"And you return in one piece. Incredible."

There was a bitter, biting tone in his voice now. Grell only shifted again.

"Please finish your duties. I've spent quite enough time out in this weather."

Grell couldn't help but giggle.

"Isn't it funny how people say 'you'll catch your death' in weather like this, when really Death catches them?"

"They are referring to contracting the illnesses that lead to our finding them."

Grell sighed playfully.

"Of course, I know that~ but it's still an interesting phrase."

William only gazed at him impassively. Grell faltered momentarily under his gaze.

"...Is something wrong, Will...?"

"I'm not a fan of the weather."

"Ah, I forgot~ nothing puts the infamous William T. Spears off like a little rain~..."

William's gaze remained utterly impassive, save for a tiny twitch of his jaw. Despite having a reputation for being something of an airhead, Grell was remarkably perceptive, and noticed it immediately.

"...I forgot. It was raining that night, wasn't it...?"

"It was."

}~X~X~{

There were two things Grell was likely never to forget: one was the first and only time William had truly lost his temper on him, the complete, burning hatred and fury that had been in his eyes.

Insatiably curious, Grell had wanted to know how William had come to reaping. When questioning the man concerning his death-which, he had to admit, he could have done more tactfully-yielded no results, he had taken the record of William's past. The records of everyone who had ever lived and died were kept in the library for referencing; however, those recruited to be shinigami were given their own record for privacy reasons. Some didn't mind others knowing what had happened to them, but William was very guarded about his past.

As such, Grell had technically stolen the Record from him. To say that William had been less-than-pleased would have been the understatement of the millennium.

By the time he snatched the book away, Grell had already found what he wanted, and it was the second thing Grell was likely to never forget.

According to the Record, he had been away from his young bride on business, and was returning on a typical rainy London night. They had been recently wed, and he was eager to see her again. He wasn't far from his home when he noticed the smoke in the dark sky, the acrid smell of a burning fire.

Dread flooded him as he urged his horse to move more quickly, fearing the worst. As he finally neared his own home, the dread and fear were confirmed; his was one of the houses engulfed in the flames that raged despite the rain.

"_Melissa-!_"

He could think only of his wife, and not seeing her amongst the terrified and distraught persons outside, had rushed headlong into the building.

"_Melissa!_"

Up the collapsing stairs, choking on smoke and trying to ignore the insane heat around him.

"_Melissa, where are you-?"_

The terrifying crack of a snapping beam; he stumbled back as the roof collapsed in his path. He fell in an awkward splay, but was unharmed. He was, however, coughing near constantly, trying desperately to breathe in the smoky environment, where much of the oxygen was being eaten up by the flames.

It was trying to get to his feet again that he found her, pinned beneath another collapsed beam. Some of her dress and hair had singed away, but she was unconscious and alive, shallowly breathing the somewhat cooler and cleaner air near the floor.

He struggled to get closer to her, trying to figure a way to free her from the heavy beam and get her outside. His head was reeling from the lack of oxygen; he could scarcely breathe for the coughing; his eyes were burning as his vision began to slowly close in on itself.

_No-!_

He dragged himself closer, amid more cracks and collapsing structures. With blinding pain, the ceiling above collapsed onto him as he grasped his lover's hand. He struggled to fight his way out from under the burning debris, vaguely registering the few drops of cool rain that managed not to evaporate in the heat falling on his skin.

"Melissa...!"

He managed to free himself, oblivious to the burns on his body, and pulled himself closer to his wife.

She wasn't unconscious at all, he realized with a jolt of anguish. His hacking coughs turned to sobs, tears leaving clear streaks on the soot that had clung to his face.

"No..._no_..."

With nothing else left to do, he pulled himself just a bit closer to her, laying his head beside hers and giving in to the blackness encroaching on his vision.

When William had discovered Grell reading his Record, he had flown into a fit of rage, screaming and shouting at the top of his lungs and even becoming violent. Grell made no attempt to fend him off or interrupt, knowing he had crossed the wrong line-had not just crossed it, but sailed right on through and past it as if it had never existed. When William had finally finished, he had told Grell to leave, his eyes burning with pure fury and hatred. They were still partners, and couldn't avoid each other forever, but for months afterward, they rarely worked beside each other, instead splitting up to get their work done.

However, William came to realize that, no matter how much he abused, berated, or otherwise mistreated Grell, the red reaper refused to leave his side on rainy days.

It surprised him mildly when he discovered that he was grateful for the other's company, distracting him from the painful memories that hovered on the edge of his mind.

}~X~X~{

Grell shifted, biting his lip.

"...I'm sorry, Will. I wasn't thinking." He toed at the ground. "Is that why...?"

He gestured to Will's less-than-pristine appearance. With a heavy sigh, he shrugged.

"Who knows..."

"I didn't mean to leave you alone..."

That twitch again, as William turned his face away. He attempted to wipe away a streak of blood on his cheek, and only succeeded on smearing it across his face.

"Finish your duties and report back to headquarters."

His voice remained steady enough until the last word, where it broke at the end.

"William-!"

Fending off the feeble attempts of his superior to push him away, Grell took the slim man into his arms, where he finally allowed the memories to return, and began to cry.

}~X~X~X~X~X~{

There's a part three in this somewhere. With Red and Black ending, maybe I'll get to it pretty quickly.

-le gasp- Maybe this will evolve into a fic all it's own...who knows.


	16. Rain III

The end to the 'Rain' sequence. In my head, for some reason, it seems like a kind of prequel to 'Torn'...I don't know. Maybe it's just the Will/Grell-ness of it.

}~X~X~X~X~X~{

Rain III

"All warmed up?"

William sighed softly as he saw Grell sitting on the edge of his bed. The younger had sent him back to shower and get out of the rain after William had followed him for half the souls he was supposed to reap. Somehow, Grell had finished, showered, and dried off in about the same time it had taken William to.

"Feeling better?"

"...Yes...much," He said, falling into his chair. Grell stood and crossed behind him.

"Good. Nothing a long, hot shower can't fix. Do you take your tea with milk and sugar?"

He'd even made tea? How was that _possible_?

"Did you finish your work for the night?"

"Of course I did. If you don't tell me how you like your, tea, I'll make it the way I make mine..."

"...Milk. No sugar."

Grell hummed softly to himself as he poured the tea and set William's cup on the small table beside his chair, gently taking the towel that hung around William's shoulders and toweling off his soaking hair.

"You'll catch cold if you sleep with wet hair."

"You know I won't."

"Oh, hush and accept the fact that I worry about you."

William obliged, quietly sipping his tea. Grell perched carefully on the arm of his chair and smiled gently when William rested his head against him. He liked these quiet moments after hours, when Will was complacent enough to let him be close. Their relationship was certainly an odd one, and he couldn't think of any accurate label for it. 'Friends' didn't quite convey the extent of it, as they weren't strictly platonic, while 'lovers' went too far...

They were, he eventually decided, whatever the other needed them to be in that moment; and as Will's hand ran lightly down his back, he slid into his lap and wrapped his arms around the dark-haired man's neck, pressing a soft kiss to the space just behind his ear.

"They're only memories, William..."

"I know."

"Look at me..." Grell gently turned the other's face to his own, fingertips lingering on the slope of his jaw. "They can't hurt you. You're here, with me. There's no fire..."

"I_ know_, Grell..."

But he couldn't get mad. There were times when his thinking _did_ get that disturbed, when strikes of lightning seemed to be the crackling of fire, when the body of a woman who had died in the same manner seemed to have _her_ face. Instead of turning away, he rested his forehead on Grell's, closing his eyes.

"I'm fine. It's not that bad tonight."

Grell nuzzled his nose to William's cheek and rested his head on the elder's shoulder. William took to stroking the long strands of red hair, idly wondering-as he usually did-how a person that adored the fiery color and seemed, at times, _made _of it, could be the one that calmed him down. Regardless of how little sense it made, he accepted it unquestionably, and was glad for the other man's presence.

"Go to sleep, William. You'll feel better in the morning."

That most likely was true, but he was reluctant to sleep. He was comfortable and content just how he was, breathing the subtle sweetness of Grell's perfume and running the long strands of hair through his fingers.

"I don't want to...not yet."

Grell couldn't help but smile.

"All right. But don't complain tomorrow if you didn't get enough sleep."

"I won't."

There was a soft laugh in William's voice, and after the exchange, they sat for a long while in comfortable silence. It was William who eventually broke it, after the first roll of thunder that promised a storm had died.

"...Will you stay here tonight?"

"Of course," Grell promised softly, holding him more tightly for just a moment. The arm William had around his waist tightened for the moment as well, an unspoken thank-you.

Again, they lapsed into comfortable and easy silence; eventually, Grell noticed William's breathing beginning to slow. When it stopped entirely, he carefully stood, turning down the bed before carrying the other across the room and tucking him into it. He sighed softly, cleaning up the cold and forgotten tea, the clothes William had discarded before showering. When the room was in its usual, spotless state, he took a moment to gaze at William across the room. He always liked to see the man asleep, when his face, for once, wasn't stern and cold. Utterly relaxed and content was a rare expression when William was awake, even on these nights.

He laughed softly, turning to the mirror and beginning to twist the long strands of hair into a braid. By the time he flicked the pleat over his shoulder, he heard the other shifting.

"...Grell...?"

He crossed to the bed and sat on the side opposite to William, taking off his shoes.

"I'm right here," He promised softly, settling under the covers and snuggling close. "I told you I would stay."

William shifted as Grell settled against him, making a small noise of contentedness. It wasn't long before he was asleep again. Grell stayed awake for a few moments more, making sure William was slumbering deeply and reflecting on the fact that tomorrow, it would be as if this night had never happened. In the office, William would be as cold and distant as ever...but after the work was done, maybe he'd suggest that they spend some more time together.

After all, with an eternity of death to look forward to, who else could they seek comfort in, if not each other?


	17. Special

Here's something a little different, for me...in my take of the Kuro universe, the 'canon' for Grell's death is a simple fever, at which point he is then obviously recruited for reaping.

This little idea presented itself to me last night as I was dozing off, and it was too good to resist. It actually seems like it would explain much more about the character, as well. So here's a little piece of random concerning Grell, blood, shinigami, and death.

}~X~X~X~X~X~{

_Huff...huff...huff..._

His own labored breathing was the only thing that reached his ears in the sudden and deafening silence. He suddenly became aware of the warm, sticky liquid that covered him, the cloyingly bitter and metallic stench that filled the room and hung heavy in the air.

"Oh...oh no...oh dear..."

There she was, lying in a pool of...he couldn't bring himself to think the word. It was smeared so thoroughly on his hands that he might as well have been wearing red gloves of an odd material. With a clatter, the knife that had been clenched in one of them fell to the floor.

"No," he whimpered, gripping the sides of his face as he took the scene in, her glassy eyes and stained dress, the slippery and softly glimmering entrails he'd displaced.

"No..._no..."_

There were red streaks on his cheeks now. He could feel where the

_liquid_

had smeared from his hands to his face. It was disgusting. It was everywhere. The

_liquid_

was coating everything...there would be no hiding what had happened...he would be sent to jail-no, sentenced to the gallows!-for his crime...

He fell heavily to his knees, squeezing his bulging eyes shut, trying to block the image of her body from his mind.

But part of him wanted to look. Part of him _liked_ looking. Part of him thought the color was beautiful, the way it spread across the floor, intent on coating everything, drenching first his home and then the entire city in bright, gleaming red...

The realization that he had enjoyed every moment of what he'd done finally and truly hit him, and the contents of his stomach balked and spilled themselves onto the floor at the revelation.

Weakly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he saw that the long locks of his brown hair had fallen into the

_li-_

_No. The blood._ _It's blood, her blood, all of it-on the floor, the walls, her body-_my_ body..._

He was torn apart momentarily by the conflicting ideas, by one part of him reveling in the utter destruction and end of a human life, the other utterly disgusted by it. He stared at the now-red locks of his hair, trying in vain to win the argument against himself. His stomach rebelled again, and for the second time, he vomited.

Coughing, he realized miserably that he had begun to cry. The tears that fell were stained red with the blood on his face.

_She was your fiancée..._

He heard himself whimper, but his mind and body seemed utterly detached. He couldn't rationalize his behavior. He had never had a particularly volatile temper; he was actually quite a soft-spoken and gentle. While it wasn't exactly true that he would never hurt a fly, he had never even _wanted_ to hurt a human being, let alone...

His stomach heaved again, but it had emptied itself and thus left him gagging, unable to force anything out of the empty organ.

_She was everything..._

Numbly, he dragged himself to his feet, his eyes rising slowly to the exposed beams of the ceiling.

"Ah, shit...I hate it when they make a mess..."

Pushing their glasses up on their nose, the figure that entered picked their way across the few clear spots on this floor, snorting to themselves.

"Well. This guy made sure the job got done right..."

From the cleanest corner, they surveyed the room, sighing.

"A murder and a suicide..." Seemingly unfazed by the two bodies, or their proximity to them, the figure righted the toppled chair, dragged it a foot or so across the room, and sat in it, opening a book.

"Let's see what's going on this time..."

A glint of silver, and a strip of film floated from the dead woman's body. Typical life, nothing out of the ordinary, killed out of jealousy or something similar. Another flash of silver, and the filmstrip was cut. The figure jotted something in the book, stamped it, and turned to the other body.

"Hangings are the worst..." it murmured softly, refusing to look at the face. A third strike, and the man's memories began to play.

The figure's eyes widened as they watched, and the book it held very nearly fell from its hand.

"Well...aren't you special..."

}~X~X~X~X~X~{

Just a little piece of random, like I said. Another take on Grell's death.


	18. SebxWill: Lust

Waaaaaaaaaaaah I haven't posted in sooooo long! I promise I'm not dead and i haven't abandoned the account, I've just been crazy busy with my job. I also have another longfic in the works that's going to take quite a bit of planning, but I intend it to feature the two dark-haired beauties of Black Butler in a decidedly twisted 'romance'...heh, heh...

Sooooo, here's a little teaser with the two of them right now~ happy reading!

}~*~*~*~{

Lust. He was familiar with it-quite intimately familiar with it, in fact-and ordinarily it was a somewhat entertaining, if short-lived emotion. For the most part, it never progressed past desire, and was usually bred from boredom. It reached its peak once every century or so, becoming the insatiable drive and compulsive need to fill for a week, before fading back into its normal, manageable levels.

That was, of course, in the realm of Hael, and in his true, androgynous, demonic form.

He was far from both at the current moment in time, bound in a contract, sealed in a human form of flesh and bone...and susceptible to human desire. It was impossible to truly manifest here and thus rid himself of the impulse; no, the best he could manage was the peculiar, halfway form initially presented to those that desired a contract. He was reluctant to take even that; it was a gamble. There was a _chance_ it would relieve the impulse.

There was an equal chance that it would make it absolutely undeniable, and would reduce him for the rest of the night to an insatiable, oversexed wretch.

He had made the mistake of taking the gamble once, very long ago, and had decided from that moment on that if he _was_ going to give in, he would at least maintain some of his dignity. Not that there was much in the act.

It actually frustrated him to no end, and was certainly more troublesome and messy than it was worth. Yet, at the same time, he knew better than to let it go unchecked. Pent-up frustration of any variety eventually manifested in unpleasant places or actions.

Resigned to relieving himself, Sebastian ceased his pacing and lay down on the bed in his room. It was, hands-down, the least-used piece of furniture in the place, and he reflected briefly that when he did use it, it was either as a substitute for a chair or for what he was about to do.

He kicked off his shoes and tugged off his gloves; his tail and waistcoats had been discarded long ago, and were hanging in the wardrobe. He pulled the tie from his neck, undoing the first few buttons on the shirt he wore as he shifted to get more comfortable.

His eyes slid closed, the burning, scarlet irises hidden as his hand slipped down his chest, to the crease of his torso and thigh. It idly occurred to him that he could have had any number of men or women here to solve his problem for him-hell, he could go to the maid's room right now and have her gladly oblige-but that led to messy complications concerning relationships, or gossip if anyone witnessed him with a whore...better to take care of things himself.

He let out a soft moan as he unbuttoned his trousers, the uncomfortable pressure on the half-engorged organ finally relieved. That was the disadvantage of male arousal; it was harder to hide and, when left unattended, painful. Nonetheless, he preferred male forms over female, and only assumed the latter when absolutely necessary. He would take the discomfort over the monthly bleeding any day of the week.

Another soft noise escaped the back of his throat as he idly stroked his slowly hardening member. Normally, he didn't bother actually taking part in the pleasure humans derived from it, instead just ridding himself of the nuisance... but now and then, he indulged the human desire. Carnal pleasure, after all, was most certainly considered to be a sin, and was one of the most effective, non-lethal tools in his arsenal.

The moan he let out as he began to stroke himself was louder than the others had been. He began slowly, agonizingly slowly, feeling the hot stirrings of desire spreading through him, giving him gooseflesh and drawing beads of sweat on his skin. Soon his entire body felt warm, despite the cool breeze coming through the open window. The cooler air did feel wonderful as it played through the room, and he unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way, pulling it off and returning to stroking his almost painfully erect and eager member. Half aware of the little sounds escaping his throat, it struck him through a lusty haze how wanton he must have seemed, shamelessly moaning as he pleasured himself. It was easy to dismiss the thought and continue to indulge in the sensation, his body moving seemingly of its own accord as he began to approach his climax. It was a guttural and lascivious groan that was muted by the pillow he turned his face into, as the hot pressure within him finally burst. Arching at the intensity of the sensation, he continued to stroke himself until the white-hot pleasure took hold of all his senses.

He was content to lie for a moment, basking in the blissful lethargy that had set heavy in his limbs, feeling the cool breeze from the open window play over his sweat-soaked body. Every now and then, yes, this was most agreeable.

"How undignified."

Distaste rippled through, but couldn't quite dispel his contentedness. After a long moment, in which it was made clear that he had no intention of responding, the cold, biting voice of William T. Spears once again reached his ears.

"Are you going to acknowledge me, or must I force you to?"

With a heavy sigh, Sebastian languidly sat up, grinning as he saw the red tint on William's cheeks from the obscene sight before him.

"Yes?" He asked, casually enough for the reaper to turn a darker shade of red.

"I came here looking for one of my officers," He said, adjusting his glasses, looking at a spot on the wall some inches above Sebastian's head. "I am going to assume that you know which one I mean."

"Mmm. That vulgar redhead, no?"

"I had expected to find him fawning over you. Please inform me if you are aware of his whereabouts."

"And if I am? Do you think I'd tell you without wanting some kind of reward?"

William's eyes cut briefly to the demon, his distaste clear.

"I will not negotiate with such a disgusting creature. The souls we-"

"I never asked for that," he said, eyes glowing red as he stood and stepped closer to the reaper. Obviously uncomfortable, William shifted to try and fight, but it took a mere step closer on Sebastian's part to pin both his arms to the wall and press close.

"No, I'll settle for something much more human..."

"_What-?_"

The sharp word faded into an undignified kind of gurgling noise as the demon's hand slipped between his legs. He briefly fondled the reaper before slipping the tips of his fingers into his waistband.

"Did that make it clearer?"

Sputtering incoherent protests and turning a vibrant shade of crimson, William tried to get away and found, to his dismay, that he was still helplessly pinned to the wall. Sebastian could only grin as he watched the realization cross the reaper's face and saw the first hints of fear color his eyes.

"I don't plan on hurting you," He murmured, though the ways his eyes lit to their burning crimson made the reaper doubt the demon's words. "I will, if I have to...or if it turns out that you enjoy that kind of thing," He added with a dark laugh and a darker smile.

"I-I do _not_," William finally managed, beginning to struggle again, "And I will not let you defile me in such a w-"

The demon's hands shifted, and the world around him whirled in the most peculiar way, and he found himself suddenly on the bed the creature had so recently occupied. He was pinned on his back. After a moment, he realized Sebastian had simply picked him up with alarming ease and thrown him down where he found himself now.

"What on earth-? Let me go-!"

"I think not," was Sebastian's lazy reply as he climbed atop the reaper. "It's much too fun to watch your face turn shades of red I never thought possible to see in someone's complexion."

Somehow, through sheer stubbornness and force of will, the prone, pinned shinigami managed to suppress the blood that wanted to flood into is cheeks and turn him a further shade of scarlet. It was only the knowledge that such a reflex would no doubt give the demon even more satisfaction that halted the uncontrollable reaction.

"Now, what to do with you..." the red-eyed being mused, carefully undoing the knot in William's tie and expertly springing the buttons on his shirt. "I could tie you down..." he considered the tie for a moment before snorting and letting it fall to the ground. "But I don't think I will...no, more satisfying if I don't..."

The demon's grin was dark and amused, full of red-hot lust as he lowered his head to the reaper's neck and kissed it, dragging his teeth across the delicate skin there. William couldn't hold back the pleasurable groan that the sensation pulled from him, and heard the demon laugh, felt his hot breath.

"More satisfying indeed..." he continued. "When you give in to the realization that you've wanted this."

The statement cleared his head well enough, and the reaper's eyes flew open.

"_I would never-_"

"Maybe not from me, no," The demon's voice was completely unfazed, his expression hungry as he continued to undress his captive. "But from someone. And you'll take if from whoever will give it to you."

Sebastian's hands were working deftly to undo the reaper's pants, and he gave a mocking laugh as William convulsed when his fingers brushed over and lingered on the growing hardness between his legs.

"And I see that I was right..."

Humiliated and vowing to do anything he had to to get free, William took advantage of the demon's position-only keeping his legs pinned for the moment, letting the rest of him free-and hauled his upper half forward, into a sitting position, aiming to claw at the creature's eyes-

But the demon shifted smoothly, blocked the clumsy swiping motions of his arms, and grabbed a thick hank of hair at the back of the reaper's head. For a moment, William anticipated pain, some form of punishment, and he flinched back; but instead he felt the demon's hot mouth cover his own in a kiss that made his head swim.

Sebastian's lips were moist and pliant, and William became aware of the heat that roiled off him in thick waves as their bare chests pressed together. For a moment, the hunger he had seen in the demon's eyes sent icy fear all through him, but the hunger he felt in the kiss held no malice, no desire beyond the apparent. It was with a pained twist of conscience that he realized he was reacting to the imploring motions of the man with the red eyes, giving in and drawing him closer, wanting the heat he gave off, wanting to explore the mouth behind the lips pressed to his. He felt them curl into a sinister grin as he drew his tongue across them, and they parted easily, drawing him in.

The heat in the demon's mouth was even more intense than that of his skin, almost uncomfortably so, but not enough to cause William to withdraw. Unexpectedly, the demon allowed him to take the lead; but it wasn't out of shyness or uncertainty. No, it was coyness. He sensed a certain languidness that said he was just waiting, allowing him this time to take what he wanted...or to let the demon determine how to treat him. With a soft groan, he realized he didn't care, only wanted the burning heat of the demon's mouth on his, the taste of blackness and the bitterest chocolate that was Sebastian.

He wasn't sure whether to be insulted or impressed that despite the calculations he knew where running through the demon's head, he was still easily keeping him enraptured in the kiss. His hot tongue explored every dip and curve of William's mouth, the pointed, miniature fangs leaving dull throbs of enticing pain on his lips; when he coaxed the reaper's tongue into his own mouth and sucked gently, the ache was echoed with a hot surge of wanting in his groin. He couldn't hold back his shameless moan.

In return, Sebastian ground their hips together, drawing William's tongue into his mouth more forcefully. Nearly delirious, the reaper locked his legs around the demon's waist, his fingers leaving long red marks on Sebastian's back as he struggled to press them closer together. With a grunting groan of his own pleasure, Sebastian fought to regain control, teeth clashing together as they grappled momentarily-but after a few short seconds, the demon's hands found William's shoulders and drove them down, pinning him again. A long strand of spittle stretched between them as the demon lifted his head from the sloppy kiss, shifting one hand to the base of William's neck as he wiped his mouth on his elbow with the other. Acutely aware of the aching need they shared, he grinned again as the reaper's fingernail dug into his back, begging him for more, trying to draw him back down into the heated liplock. With a jerk of his head, Sebastian flicked the sweaty forelocks of his hair off his forehead and shifted, laving the reaper's torso with his tongue, keeping him pinned by a hand firmly in the middle of his chest. William shuddered, breaking out in gooseflesh as he watched and felt the other make his way from his collarbones to his chest, to his upper, then mid-stomach, tracing a hipbone with one finger as he continued. William's breath hitched as the demon followed the thin line of dark hair from his navel downward. He could almost see the head of dark hair bobbing between his legs, almost feel that heat wrapped around him...

He was wrenched from his fantasy as cold air rushed over him; the demon had sat up, taking his intense heat with him. Shivering, he sat up as the demon stood and began to dress.

"What-?"

"It seems," Sebastian grunted in response, shrugging into his black tailcoat, "that the young master has had a nightmare." He looked to the reaper as if seeing him for the first time. "Get out of my room."

William was still struggling to gather his thoughts.

"You were the one that-!"

The demon's eyes flashed impatiently, burning in the dark room.

"_I will not say it again. Get off of my bed and out of my room._"

Everything seemed to drop into place at once, the reality of the situation hitting William like a heavy sack of bricks. He practically leapt off the bed as if burned by it, dressing as quickly as he could and trying to fathom how he ever could have found the past few moments _pleasurable_.

"I only came looking for my officer-"

"You arrived at a decidedly inopportune time," the demon growled, tugging on his gloves so harshly that a seam began to pop, further aggravating him. "Now leave before I escort you rather roughly through the window."

He didn't need telling again, not caring that his clothes were only haphazardly put on, that his tie couldn't be located-the only thing running through the reaper's head was the repercussions of bathing in bleach. He felt dirty, soiled, impure, tainted by his contact with the creature standing across the room. The demon didn't seem to care about that so much as he wanted the reaper gone, and while his expression didn't soften as the man vanished into the night, his eyes faded to a solid burgundy. He turned on his heel and swept down the hallway, the only difference from his usual behavior the loudly ringing footsteps instead of his silent tread, and the near-silent mutterings under his breath, cursing the human form he currently kept.

}~*~*~*~*~{

I'm evil, aren't I? Yeah, I'm evil. Ah well, there's gonna be plenty of smut in the longfic. This was just a tiny taste~I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
